The Birth of Pain
by Avelera
Summary: The story of why Auron is the father Paine never knew. Originally in the FFX2 section till I realized the story mostly concerned Auron, Braska, and their wives. Chapter 14 up
1. Prologue

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: All of the characters save Paine's mother are property of Final Fantasy as is the setting. Only the story is mine. A/N: Though there is no REAL proof that the people I hint at are Paine's real parents it is entirely possible and, I feel, extremely likely. Enjoy!

A/N2: Also, I am terrible with updating as some people know which is why the first chapter has enough content to stand alone. I'm sorry if I never finish this but you should be able to get a lot from the first chapter.

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The infant sobbed, long, loud and shrill somehow managing to pierce the panicked voices and moans of the wounded and dying that surrounded her. It was a cry of hunger, not of loss but it would be echoed, years into the future as a child then a young girl then a young woman who mourned in the middle of the night for what she had lost on her first day of life. She scrunched up her face for another long wail and her eyes opened momentarily, blood red eyes dark in her blood gorged face. The tiny tuft of her black hair was still wet from her first washing and her face was damp from the tears that soaked her angry, wrinkled face.

Yet the man who held her was not impressed, unlike many new fathers who would be scrambling to return the child to its mother at the onset of such newborn rage. For unlike those fathers, he did not have that luxury. He simply cradled her in his red-clothed arm, not an inch of human flesh contacting hers. There was no connection between them save blood and loss. And there never would be.

"Paine," he said his voice hoarse from smoke and screaming. It held only an echo of warmth and love, as if like colors they had been washed out long ago. Not only a few hours. "Her name is Paine."

"Why?" a young white mage said as she peered at the babe in arms hesitantly. She was just an aid, barely more than a child. Her magic had been used up long ago on the endless stream of wounded that had come in through the temple doors and now she had to resort to crude bandages and salves and softly spoken words of comfort to aid those who may not survive the day, much less the night. "She's too young to bear such a sorrowful name."

The man looked at her, hardly old enough to be called that but already so much older than his young face could show. His clothes, torn and blackened from fire and blade, the blood almost invisible on the crimson wool, told the story in fragmented words of the loss he had endured that day. Only his eyes, chestnut colored yet cold and dead as day old corpse could tell the true tale. "She is Paine, because it is all she has ever known." He looked back down at the babe, perhaps memorizing her face, perhaps trying to forget it;, and the sorrow in his heart flooded then froze like tears in winter.

He looked down at her newborn face and remembered a time when all had been right with the world, a time before the birth of pain...

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	2. Black Mage

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Here, with surprising speed, is the next chapter in the Birth of Pain, enjoy! Also, would you prefer that I spend more time on Auron and Leyla's relationship or fast-forward to the juicy bits? It's up to you; just leave your preferences in your review.

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He had met her only a year after being promoted from squire to full-fledged warrior-monk but when looking back it seemed he had known her all his life. That his life had begun on that day.

A month prior squad 27 had lost its black mage, Bergil, while scouting the freezing trails of Macalania. Bergil had been old by that time, but he made up for it in wisdom and doughtiness. Yet neither of those saved him in the end.

Their party was ambushed by ice flans that seemed to emerge from the very ground they walked on. Bergil had not had time even to release his sharp intake of breath in final cry before the flans had descended on him as one, enveloping him with their combined spells in a block of ice with a crystalline ching!. The fighting after that was furious, hot, and desperate. Two more men went down, their faces covered in a thin coating of frost before it was over. Bergil, they discovered had died instantly. Not of cold but of suffocation as the ice worked its way down his throat, freezing every drop of moisture.

Looking back it was almost as if the flans had known that the elderly man traveling in a squad of 19 hale, hearty young men was their greatest threat. And who's to say they did not? Were not fiends the troubled souls of the dead unable to pass on to the Farplane? Perhaps within the wriggling nucleus of the ice -flan scattered memories of its past life still lived. Perhaps one of them had even been a black mage. Or a warrior-monk.

For some reason Bergil's death, the first in a long line of friends he would see die before his very eyes was the one that bothered him the least, even at the tender age of 17. At the time death was something he could deal with, that he could prepare for. It was not until he became older, and more cynical that death began to hurt him more and more, every loss striking him to the core.

Had he been older perhaps he would have wept that day when Bergil and the two other warrior-monks were delivered up the long steps of Bevelle to await their sending. The summoner in question had delayed the start of his pilgrimage a day in order to perform the dance himself. As a former warrior-monk himself, the summoner had felt it his duty to honor a fallen comrade though he had been in a different squad.

After Bergil he had somehow become fixed in his mental image of black mages as venerable, wise, and usually male despite the attempts of his closest friend, a priest of Yevon, to dissuade him of that image. Braska pointed out that he too was a practitioner of the dark art in addition to the white magics required of a priest and that while he was most certainly male, he was neither venerable nor all that wise.

Yet the image had endured until after a month out of idleness as their squad awaited another black mage to make them fully functional again, something had come along that had changed everything, starting with his prejudice of what a black mage was supposed to be.

"May I present to you your new mage, gentlemen," their Commander Ralleth had said in his stern, clipped voice. "I hope you haven't been slacking off in your training because tomorrow you will resume your duties. All of them," and with a final piercing look had left the room and the new recruit.

It wasn't until much later that he found out why she had come to him first, straight as an arrow while still maintaining a slight seductive sway in her no-nonsense stride. It was the first chance he had to really look at her and never once after that did he become tired of it.

At first glance she was almost like a ghost, skin so pale it was more like marble or alabaster than flesh and steel gray hair, each piece in a perfect braid no thicker than a little finger all tied away from her face with a black leather cord. At first he thought her eyes were simply dark brown; perhaps even black from the way they seemed to leave dark holes in her face like wounds. It was one of many shocks that day to discover her eyes were not black or brown but red, deep crimson darker than his blood- colored coat.

Beside her outlandish coloring her clothes were hardly to be remarked upon, for it was common knowledge that black mages were a flamboyant bunch and he had seen more startling outfits than hers even within the temple of St. Bevelle. Every piece of material seemed to be layered across another, ocean blue leggings over black pants somehow attached to a thin black top by five scaled pink leather bands that provided little more covering than the top. Flaring out from the clinging blue sleeves that came halfway down her bicep were a pair of black bell- like sleeves that gave her the odd appearance of a bird due to the gold feather-patterned embroidered on the material. Leaning against the wall where she had left it on her way to his corner of the room was a four foot high staff with a jade ball at the end, also worked with intricate patterns. Though not necessary, most mages had some sort of accessory that they channeled their power through, staffs and moogles being the most popular.

How he noted all these details in the few moments it took her to cross to him he did not know. Some would call it love at first sight however, at the time all he was thinking was vague shock that the he Auron had been waiting for for the past month was in fact a she. And not just any she, but one within a year of his age or he'd eat his gauntlets.

"Pleased to meet you, I am Leyla from Kilika Port," she said saluting, fist over chest in a manner that would have made even the strictest Crusader drill-sergeant proud.

Training took over and he returned the salute, partially relieved that he was back on familiar ground. "Auron, warrior-monk of Bevelle," he said with unintentional curtness.

She nodded to herself, "A native then. Well, I'll expect you will be a great help in acquainting me with the city. Let's start tomorrow, once we are done with our first patrol."

And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could say to that.

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A/N: If you would like to see more of this story (I assure you, it gets better and ties together many loose ends in FFX and X-2) Please Review. It doesn't have to be long, just a little show of appreciation would be muchly appreciated . 


	3. Getting to Know You

The Birth of Pain  
  
Disclaimer: See Prologue.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the wait, I don't have internet access so I can only post when I'm at work. Also, I had a chapter done which I was planning on posting for a while but then I realized it was too much of fast-forward and that I needed something in the middle. This chapter is twice as long as usual but a bit more hurried and therefore not as good (in my opinion) I promise that the story will pick up after this.

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Despite Commander Ralleth's threat that squad 27 would be resuming all of its duties, including long-range patrol, their assignment the next day was the relatively simple rounds of the city. City-guard was usually the warrior-monks duty of choice. Bevelle's atmosphere was always subdued, weighted down by its own grandeur as well as the watchful eye of Yevon, made palpable by the shadow of the temple which touched every part of Bevelle at some point in the day like a colossal sundial. There was only one time that most warrior-monks wished for another duty, any duty, even a backwater island in the most Yevon-forsaken corner of Spira rather than the uneventful rounds of the Bevelle streets.  
  
The steeple of St. Bevelle was a visible symbol of the city's vulnerability. Like a lightening rod attracts the fury of the storm, the great capital of Bevelle was an attractor for the most volatile force Spira: Sin.  
  
Using Yevon-endorsed machina, the warrior-monks of the city were on constant lookout for signs of Sin, ready to give the order that would recall every warrior-monk within two days of the capital to defend the city. Yet no matter how many defenders there were it was never enough to prevent damage to Bevelle. Even the guardian wyrm, Evrae, could do little to lower the death toll for with all its power, the entity was little match against Sin. The price to defending the city during those times was always great, but it was a price they were forced to pay, again and again, with only the too brief respite of the Calm to allow them to go on with their lives.  
  
However, today was not one of those days. The sun shone brightly, casting the illusion that Sin was far away, if not some bad dream and for once Auron's thoughts were not on the defense of Bevelle.  
  
Rather it was the perplexing black mage that had so recently joined their ranks. They had not been more than 20 feet apart the entire day yet she had not said a word except to him except for "yes, sir" or "no, sir". It was as if they had never met. Once he had tried to instigate a conversation himself but she had waved him away, saying only that they could talk later.  
  
Sure enough, as the changing of the guard brought the squad 27 back to the barracks, Leyla gave him no time to do more than return his katana to the armory before dragging him back outside. He briefly wondered why he was doing this but decided with a mental shrug that it wasn't as if he had anything else to do. Kinoc would invariably be on his way to one of the bars in the lower city, a pastime that Auron had never developed a fondness for, and Braska was away on one of his frequent trips to the Al Bhed Home. All that left was showing the new recruit around the city and it was not as if that were a particularly odious task, he thought to himself, once more sizing up the undeniably attractive mage.  
  
"We have a few hours of daylight left," Leyla observed, tugging at the brim of her huge hat as she gazed up at the afternoon sky. "That should be enough time to get to know each other."  
  
"Get to know each other?" Auron remarked, "I thought I was giving you a tour of the city."  
  
"There's that too, but Commander Ralleth didn't tell me much about the squad except for your names and things like "Damn good fighter, but always has his head in the clouds," she finished in a gruff voice.  
  
Auron humph-ed. That sounded like Serrid, the cadet who had replaced Dumoc who had fallen to the flans at Macalania. "We can start the south end. Warrior-monks spend most of their time off-duty there. I assume you're already familiar with the temple?" She nodded and he began to walk towards the lift that would take them to the lower part of the city.  
  
For a while they hardly spoke, the silence punctuated only by comments from Auron as he pointed out the various bars and shops frequented by the officials of Bevelle. Just ahead he saw Kinoc entering a door to one of the bars and Leyla noticed it only a moment after he did. "I know him. Kinoc, isn't it? Commander Ralleth said he was the second-best man in the squad."  
  
"Do you want to go inside?" Auron asked. They had been walking for more than an hour with nothing to drink after a full day's patrol. Though he would never admit it he was beginning to feel a little worn out himself and he could only imagine what it was like for someone unaccustomed to the rigors of the warrior-monks duties.  
  
Leyla looked up at him from under the brim of her hat, her lips upturned in the tiniest of smiles. "Let's."  
  
It was still light out so the bar was nowhere close to its maximum capacity. Dotted around the large common room was a fair number of warrior- monks who were either already off duty or taking a break. Stretching across the wall closest to the door was a long bar where Kinoc was talking animatedly to Serrid. Above it was a large sphere screen that could be seen from all corners of the room. During the blitzball season the noise from the screen drowned all but the loudest conversations and those were usually cheers or bets on the various favorites. Since Bevelle did not have its own team, the warrior-monks were a diverse lot of fans, some cheering for their home team, others for whichever one struck their fancy at the time.  
  
At the moment the screen was blessedly silent and Auron led Leyla to a small booth in the corner of the common room. On his way there Kinoc spotted him out of the corner of his eye. "Auron, my friend! What do we have here?" Auron waved Leyla off towards the table and turned back to Kinoc. "You could have given us some time to try our own luck, Auron," Kinoc said, winking suggestively. "Hardly fair for you to snatch her up before giving us a chance."  
  
"Try away. I'm only showing her around the city." Auron said frankly.  
  
"Of course you are," Kinoc said. "But she is a pretty one, isn't she? Truly Yevon must be smiling on us," He did a quick prayer but there was a hint of sacrilege about the way the grin stayed on the corner of his lips. "Well, best not to keep your lady waiting," Kinoc said nodding toward the table. Auron turned and found himself face to face with Leyla, who was now openly grinning.  
  
"I-I thought..." Auron began but Leyla only shrugged and went to sit down.  
  
"I apologize for Kinoc," Auron said, catching up to her.  
  
"For what? I'll have just have water, thank you," she said to the bartender. Auron ordered the same, more interested in quenching his thirst than anything else.  
  
Leyla pressed the cool glass against her forehead for a moment before taking a sip. "Mmm, that's better. So tell me, Auron, do you have any family in Bevelle?"  
  
Auron stared into his glass for a moment, observing the magnified grain of the wood through the bottom. "My parents died a few years ago. Natural causes, strangely enough. I have an older brother who's with the Crusaders but I haven't heard from him in some time. I'm sure I would have heard something if he was dead."  
  
She took another sip, "That's nice," Auron gave her a somewhat startled look, "To hear about a family who has not lost someone to Sin. It's so rare these days," Leyla explained. She folded her hands on the table and lowered her lids as if lost in thought. Auron wondered if he was supposed to say something in return. He had never been one for small talk but perhaps she was waiting for him to ask after her family for some reason.  
  
"Have you lost family to Sin?" he asked and as soon as the words left his mouth he cursed his own stupidity. No matter how common, the loss of loved- ones to Sin was always painful.  
  
"Yes," she said, her voice soft and emotionless. Auron opened his mouth to tell her he hadn't meant to bring up a painful subject but she went on. "My oldest sister was living on Besaid with my parents and her family when Sin attacked last month. They say that the Crusaders used Yevon-sanctioned flame-throwing machina to drive Sin away... but that, combined with the wind," she closed her eyes, as if she could see the scene playing itself out in her mind, "set the village afire. Those who were not killed by Sin were forced to flee their homes. Some did not make it out, including my family. Only my little niece, Lulu, survived. She said that all she could remember was coming home to find the village under attack. She tried to get inside her house, where she would have been burned alive, but a boy stopped her and brought her to the temple," Auron watched in horror as a tear slid down Leyla's cheek. She sniffed and wiped it away with a long gold- embroidered sleeve.  
  
"I was still in Kilika when I heard of Sin's attack. It took a week for any ships to dare the voyage so I could not make it for the sending. I was going to offer to take my niece in but then I got word of your black mage's death. I had been a reserve for over a year so I had no choice but to come. The temple said that Lulu would be in good hands," She wiped away the last remnant of her tears and offered a shaky smile, "Which is why I was so shamefully late. You see there were still some matters that my sister and I had to attend to. I came as quickly as I could after that."  
  
She feels guilty because after most of her family died she couldn't make it on time? Auron wondered, aghast. He had known some warrior-monks to give up their profession entirely after such a disaster struck. That she had come at all was wonder.  
  
"My other sister, Nuada, was afraid that the temples might tempt Lulu away from becoming a black mage. But I doubt she has anything to worry about. Lulu's only five but she already plays with moogles as if they were dolls," she smiled.  
  
"Another black mage?" Auron asked leaping at a chance to get off the terrible subject of her family's deaths.  
  
"My family comes from a long line of black mages. It's a tradition to train the girls in black magic, as well as name them some variation of our most famous ancestor, Lilium," Leyla said.  
  
"Lilium?" Auron said, trying to recall where had had heard the name when suddenly it struck him, "You mean Summoner Ohalland's guardian? You're descended from her?"  
  
"Not directly. She was my many-times over great-aunt. You could say she left quite an impression with us," Leyla reminisced, "It was said that she was Lord Ohalland's lover as well as his guardian. She died alongside him, during their final battle with Sin. In addition to being black mages, we are encouraged to take on the guardianship of summoners, or to become warrior-monks."  
  
"Why are you telling me all this?" Auron wondered aloud. It was fascinating, easily the most fascinating family history he had ever heard but that along with the death of her family seemed a very private thing to be telling a near-stranger. Come to think of it, he too had told her a great deal more about himself than he had told, say, Kinoc on his first day.  
  
Leyla paused, not the least bit taken aback. "I'm not sure. Perhaps soon we will find out," and with that she stood and kissed him on the cheek. "I think I can find my own way back. Until tomorrow."  
  
For a long time after she had left he sat there with his hand pressed against his cheek. The next day he showed her more of Bevelle yet despite Kinoc's insinuations, none of the other warrior-monks made any move on the black mage. If he hadn't known any better, he would say that with that parting kiss she had marked him as her own.  
  
But of course that was ridiculous.

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A/N: I really don't like this chapter but it was necessary for transition and to understand some background. Leyla is not related to Lulu for any other reason than to make a connection between the fact that both Lulu and Paine have crimson eyes. 


	4. Child of the Al Bhed

The Birth of Pain  
  
Disclaimer: See Prologue.  
  
A/N: Hurray, another chapter! And several notes. At this point in the story Auron and Leyla have been an "item" for nearly a year, making them 18. Braska and his wife are in their early 20's and Yuna has been in the womb 3 months.  
  
I've always had a theory, which I applied here, that Braska's wife's name was Rikku. The FFX Rikku was born after Braska's wife died and Cid never struck me as one for tact, thus I can see him having no inhibitions about naming his daughter in remembrance of his dead sister. I apologize for any confusion.

One final note (though it seems largely unneccessary thanks to the wonderful reviews I have been receiving). When I first started this fic I had no idea how much character creation it would entail. We know virtually nothing about Braska's wife and of course Paine had a mother. I would just like to clarify that Rikku and Leyla are in no way representations of myself (ie, they're not Mary Sues) they are means to an end, not an end in themselves. I love Auron but in my day dreams if he's in love with someone its me, not some fantasized version of myself .  
  
The translations for the Al Bhed used in this chapter are at the bottom.

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"You did _what_?!"  
  
"Rikku and I eloped," Braska repeated with infuriating calm.  
  
"You mean to say that you ran off with the sister of the man who is, for all practical purposes, the heir to the Al Bhed throne?!" Auron nearly screamed, it was all he could do to keep from shaking the older man.  
  
"You mean Cid? He wishes," the woman in question snorted with only a trace of Al Bhed accent.  
  
"Lord Braska, do you understand what you have just done?! All the effort you put into securing ties between Yevon and the Al Bhed-," Auron said. Couldn't Braska see?!  
  
"I think they went quite nicely," Braska smiled, pulling his new wife closer.  
  
"No!" Auron exploded, "Now all you've done is disgrace yourself in the eyes of the Yevon clergy and probably infuriated the Al Bhed! It will be impossible to establish diplomatic ties through _either_ of you now!"  
  
"He may have a point, muja, we _did_ run off in the middle of the night," Rikku said. Auron groaned and covered his eyes. Could this get any worse?  
  
"It was the only way, Auron. After all, there was the child to consider."  
  
Auron froze, unsure of whether or not this was good news, then with another disgusted groan turned to leave the room.  
  
"Was it really so wrong of us, Auron, to want what you and Leyla have?" Braska said reasonably, though if Auron didn't know any better it sounded almost as if he were pleading.  
  
"Leyla and I didn't elope, Lord Braska. Or conceive a child," he said the last bit in an undertone, "And neither of us have the diplomatic ties of our separate nations riding on our decision."  
  
Braska's voice turned cold, "Perhaps it was a mistake expecting you to understand, Auron. I don't know why I'm trying to justify myself to you," he inclined his head slightly, as if bidding farewell to, well, a warrior-monk, not his best friend. Auron felt a sudden wash of guilt and turned suddenly. Who was he to judge them? They had known the consequences of their actions, known that once they consummated their union all hands in Spira, both Yevonite and Al Bhed would be against them. Braska and Rikku had come to him, newly wed and soon to have their first child and Auron had blown up at them over _politics_.  
  
"Lord Braska..." he began, "Braska, I... I'm sorry. If Leyla were here she would probably curse me for being such a jackass," was that the faintest trace of a smile he saw on Braska's lips? Surely Rikku was openly grinning.  
  
"You bet she would!" Rikku laughed. "Oh, stop it, Braska, Auron's your best friend and Leyla hasn't heard the news yet! Let's see who blows up loudest!" Braska retained his stern visage a moment longer but before it could break fully into a helpless smile Auron clapped him in the shoulder and pulled him into a quick hug.  
  
"Congratulations, Braska, may you have many happy years together. All three of you."  
  
"There's hope for you yet, Auron, now if we could just make the lack of title permanent..."  
  
"You know what Commander Ralleth would do to me if he caught me calling a priest of Yevon any less than 'my Lord', my Lord," Auron said, only half joking.  
  
Braska shuddered theatrically, "Perish the thought. You know, one of these days I'm going to have to have a long talk with this 'Commander Ralleth', of yours."  
  
"Of course, my Lord," Auron said in a tone that clearly stated who would emerge triumphant from that clash of wills. "I'll come around afterwards to pick up the pieces."  
  
"Braska's pieces, obviously," a sardonic voice said and Leyla strode into the room. "If it's between Ralleth and Braska I'd put my gil on—_Rikku_?!"  
  
"Since when was Rikku part of the match?" Braska muttered to Auron but Leyla wasn't listening.  
  
"Rikku, what are you doing here? In Bevelle of all places!" Leyla said incredulously. Auron went to her side on a hunch that she may need the extra support when Rikku broke the news.  
  
"Would you believe that I came to see the sites?" Rikku winced slightly.  
  
"In the heart of Yevon? Please, if that were the case I'd have to tell Maester Mika to scour the temple for hidden flash bombs. Again."  
  
"Well it was pretty funny," Rikku muttered then said brightly "Actually Leyla, the truth is that Braska and I are going to have a baby."  
  
Auron saw a startled look flash across Braska's face. Obviously he still wasn't use to hearing about his imminent fatherhood.  
  
Leyla laughed until Rikku's uneasy grin made something clicked in her brain. "You're not kidding, are you?" It wasn't a question. Auron tightened his grip on her shoulders, a little unsure of what would happen next.  
  
Braska seemed to feel there was some need for explanation. "We eloped," he said simply.  
  
"But what about-?"  
  
"We knew what we were getting ourselves into," Braska said, shooting a mild look of reproof over Leyla's shoulder at Auron.  
  
"But-," she looked over her shoulder helplessly at Auron who only shrugged helplessly back.  
  
"Err, speaking of which, when are you two planning on getting hitched?" Rikku said, effectively changing the subject as both Leyla and Auron jumped, though Leyla's face did not contain the same level of cornered shock as Auron's.  
  
"We...hadn't planned on that just yet," Leyla said.  
  
"Shame on you, Auron!" Rikku admonished, "You had better ask her soon, I know a bunch Al Bhed men who I'm sure Leyla could have like that," she said and snapped her fingers.  
  
"Yes, my lady," Auron muttered, his eyes downcast but flickering about the room in search of an exit.  
  
"Oh, oui'na esbuccepma!" Rikku exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation.  
  
"Umm, my lord," a timid voice called from the doorway. They all looked to see a young acolyte in a green dress with light brown hair pulled into buns on either side of her head peeking into the room uncertainly.  
  
"Yes, Belgemine," Braska said warmly, "What is it?"  
  
"The maesters request your presence, my lord. Actually, they demand it," her eyes widened when they landed on Rikku. "Its about her, your new lady-wife, my lord."  
  
Braska's mouth set to a thin line, "I'll be with them immediately, Belgemine. Your may return to your duties. Rikku, stay here with Leyla and Auron."  
  
"No, I'm going with you," she with an air of finality.  
  
Braska looked like he was about to protest but then smile brightened his face and he took her hand. "We're in this together," she said. Leyla and Auron exchanged worried glances but there was nothing they could do as their friends left to face the wrath of Yevon.

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Muja... Love

Oui'na esbuccepma! ... You're impossible!  
  
A/N: Thank you so much to all my reviewers! You are the sole reason that I have the will to write so please, keep the fire going by leaving a review. It need not be long, even the shortest review can have me on Cloud 9 for days (and Cloud 9 means Warp 9 in writing!)


	5. The Spring

The Birth of Pain  
  
Disclaimer: See Prologue.  
  
A/N: After an unforgivably long wait I give you one of the longest chapters I have ever written! Nearly three times longer than the average chapter! I considered cutting into two pieces for a bit but somehow it just...worked. Enjoy!  
  
Also, this chapter contains some nudity but nothing explicit. If you WANT something explicit between these two characters ask someone else, I'm no good at writing that stuff.

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Snow crunched beneath Auron's boot and the boots of the rest of the squad making a steady swish-swish sound as they marched across the ice back towards Macalania Woods. The rows were set up four-by-five with Leyla in the center and Ralleth at the head. Though neither of them had requested it, a few days after Auron began his courtship, Commander Ralleth had reorganized the squad's formation so that Auron was at Leyla's side. Nobody had said anything and there had not been a wink or snicker to give any indication that Commander Ralleth had been acting on anything more than a whim.  
  
The squad rounded the hill that brought the crystalline trees of Macalania woods into view and Auron heard the faintest whispers of...something.  
  
"Do you hear that?" Leyla whispered to him. "It sounds like a machina." Auron nodded in agreement. It seemed they were not the only ones who heard it. Ralleth raised and arm and signaled: Proceed with caution. The sound of booted feet tramping through the snow was reduced to a quiet thrumming. There was no mistaking the sound now, a rhythmic hammering too even to be done by hand.  
  
"It could be... but here?" Leyla murmured to herself as the warrior- monks topped the hill.  
  
The normally vacant mesa, inhabited only by fiends and the occasional Summoner on their way to Macalania Temple, was bustling with activity. An Al Bhed youth with yellow hair that swept to his shoulders was talking animatedly to woman, presumably another Al Bhed by the goggles that hid her eyes. Occasionally he would squat down and trace something in the snow then gesture towards the beginnings of a foundation being carved into the ice by a machina rhythmically pounding at the perpetual frost layer to reach the solid ground below.  
  
"_Ed fyc y dannepma taleceuh du piemt eh dra settma uv dra fehdan mega drec. Yd drec nyda ed femm dyga dfela yc muhk_!" the woman said exasperatedly to the youth. Auron's understanding of Al Bhed was incomplete at best and the two architects were talking to fast for him to pick up anything.  
  
"_Fa ryt hu lruela, edc ymfyoc fehdan rana_," the youth replied with a strange nasally accent. "_Cusadrehk du tu fedr dra_ Fayth _yd dra haynpo dasbma_."  
  
"_Frydajan oui cyo,_ Rin_,_" said the woman skeptically.  
  
"Al Bhed!" a hostile hiss went up amongst the warrior monks. Leather creaked as gloves tightened on sword hilts and gun hostlers. Auron and Leyla exchanged worried glances. What kind of plans did a group of Al Bhed, so close to Bevelle with the obvious intent of making the stay permanent, have?  
  
It seemed that the Al Bhed had noticed the presence of the warrior-monks. All the work halted as the various engineers and construction workers switched of their machina. The woman paled beneath her goggles and began to back away. However the youth, who seemed to be in charge, held his ground. "Ah, you would be the warrior-monks of Bevelle, no? I am Rin, the owner of the establishment which will soon grace this road," he greeted with an easy smile, his nasal accented more apparent now that he spoke the common language.  
  
"What business have you here, heathen?" Commander Ralleth said coldly. The smile on Rin's face flickered but held.  
  
"Business indeed. I am in the process of setting up travel agencies throughout Spira, mainly along the roads that the Summoners will walk."  
  
"Planning to feed off the Summoner's, heathen? It is well known that your kind have a dislike for them," Ralleth retorted, his mouth switching into a sneer.  
  
"On the contrary, I plan to provide them with a safe haven where they can rest while they journey. We Al Bhed have nothing against the pilgrims, we only feel that there may be a better and more permanent way to defeat Sin," Rin said, retaining his calm, "But enough theology. In case you are curious, all the machina we employ here have been sanctioned by your Yevon and should you require them, I can supply you with the papers to prove the legitimacy of my claim," reaching into pouch by his side he presented a thin stack of crisply folded papers, each stamped with the symbol of Yevon. Ralleth stepped away from his place at the head of the squad and took the proffered documents.  
  
"As you can see, they are legitimate," Rin said, "And I can provide you with another copy should you require it." Ralleth perused documents, flipping through them as if unsure that they were as "legitimate" as Rin claimed. But in the end he seemed to find nothing suspicious and Yevon's sanction on the various construction machina had done wonders for his disposition.  
  
"I see that everything is in order. Good luck in your undertaking, Mr. Rin, though how you will make a profit here during the Calm is beyond me," Ralleth said and turned to leave.  
  
Rin, it seemed, had been emboldened by Ralleth's approval, "Actually, sir, I was wondering if you could do me a small service. Today my construction team has already been attacked twice by fiends. We will be returning to our inn in Bevelle at nightfall. Would it be possible for you to leave a small contingency of your men with us until then?"  
  
Ralleth looked as if he was seriously considering turning the young entrepreneur down. This day's patrol was almost finished and the squad was looking forward to their return to the warmer climes of Bevelle. However, it was his duty to protect the peoples of Spira under Yevon and perhaps he had taken a liking to the earnest young merchant.  
  
"Very well. Kinoc, you take half of the squad back to the city and don't take any unnecessary risks while at half strength. The rest of you come with me and assume guard positions," Ralleth barked the orders and Auron found himself with Leyla in the second half resuming the march towards the forest.  
  
Macalania Woods was quiet as a grave, the occasional crackling of a tree branch echoing like a gun shot. Unconsciously Leyla wrapped her fingers around Auron's though whether it was because of the ominous mood of the forest or Ralleth's warning she did not know.  
  
After a half-hour of walking the intestine tracts of the wood the silence became even more unsettling than ever. They had not been ambushed by a single fiend and it was obvious the rest of the squad had realized the oddity of that. The whole situation was unnatural but nobody dared make a sound to lighten the mood, for fear that somehow they were slipping by the fiends unnoticed and the smallest noise could bring them down like an avalanche.  
  
Auron found his mind wandering back to the last time this had happened. Not since the ambush that had killed Bergil two years ago...  
  
His heart leapt into his throat. This was not normal! There was no way they had slipped past the fiends unnoticed!  
  
Before he could shout a warning to Kinoc he felt the forest floor shift under his feet... shift and rise up, engulfing him in a bubble of watery gelatin, trapping him like a bug in amber then releasing him as it floated upward. He gasped like a drowning man as it and watched in horror as it formed a wriggling sphere above his head with a revolving nucleus.  
  
"Yevon save us!"  
  
"What _is_ that?!"  
  
Auron didn't bother to ask question but swung his katana with all his strength, willing it to cut through whatever armor the fiend had. All the other warrior monks followed suit, raising their swords and cocking their guns to deal with this new threat.  
  
Enough ammunition and steel struck the thing to destroy a chimera in one hit but it had little effect on floating bubble. One man screamed as the bullet he had fired at it ricochet straight back at him.  
  
Water exploded amongst the ranks with the pressure of a geyser, knocking over the warrior-monks as if they were toy soldiers. Leyla cried out as she was hit with the full force of a blast but released a volley of lightning before she collapsed. Auron was at her side in an instant forcing her to drink from a small vial that contained a potion. The light returned to her eyes and she pushed him away, dragging herself to her feet and sending another volley of lightning at the thing. This time to no effect. Indeed, the tiny cuts, the sum of the damage caused by physical means, seemed to fade before Auron's eyes.  
  
It returned the lightning with its own, far stronger than Leyla's.  
  
"A shifter!" Kinoc bellowed from somewhere in the melee. Leyla panted then raised her jade staff above her head, bringing it down like a sword and engulfing the shifter in water. This time Auron saw as its colors shift as it settled on a new elemental base then faded back to clear.  
  
Ice enshrouded him.  
  
_"Flans! Everyone, assume defensive positions! Bergil-!"  
  
"He's down, sir! We're on our own!"  
  
"Then fight your sons of shoopuffs! Fight or die!_  
  
It took a moment for Auron to realize that the cold that had washed over was from another source. Serid, coated in a crystalline layer of frost lay curled on the ground like a statue.  
  
"Retreat! Retreat back to Bevelle! No formation, go!" Auron shouted and heard his command echoed throughout the ranks. Serid was left where he lay, frozen to the ground. He would never daydream on duty again.  
  
"Leyla, come on!" Auron said, grabbing her arm and wrenching her out of the fight. He had only gone a few feet when he realized something was wrong. He glanced back at her and saw that her eyebrows and hair were coated with white. The water had frozen! For a moment he considered carrying her but realized that was the surest way to kill her. For now she had to keep moving.  
  
"Leyla, we have to run, you have to keep moving. We can't stop now!" Auron told her and she nodded, her teeth chattering too hard for her to speak.  
  
They ran without stopping even to catch their breath. Leyla stumbled occasionally on the uneven ground and when Auron bent to help her he could see the other warrior-monks dart by. It was not cowardice. Someone had to get back to Bevelle to report and that meant leaving fallen comrades where they lay.  
  
The twisting path went deeper and deeper into the forest until Auron had no idea where they had come from, much less where they were going. He listened, trying to ignore the background noise and Leyla's tortured gasps, for the sound of thunder rolling in off the plains but there was nothing but the crackling of the trees.  
  
"W-we're l-lost aren't w-we," Leyla chattered, her voice fainter than ever. She had wrapped her wing-like sleeves tightly around herself and taken the cord from hair so that the thousands of tiny braids fanned around her like a cloak.  
  
This was no time for bravado, "Yes, but I think there's a clearing up ahead. Just a little farther, I promise," he whispered desperately. Leyla's eyes were becoming glassy.  
  
"Alright...I will try," she whispered, offering him a ghost of the smile he had come to love.  
  
The clearing opened before then like welcoming arms but the relief only lasted a few moments. Several paths branched out into different directions, none of which Auron recognized.  
  
"That way," Leyla murmured hypnotically, pointing down the path that led to the right. "There is water there... water warmed by memories and.... the pyreflies dance through so thick and beautiful that the Moonflow seems a distant star compared... to the Sun."  
  
"How do you know this?" Auron asked in shock.  
  
"The water... told me. I use the elements...and so I must...understand them," she sagged to the ground, the last of her energy spent. Gathering her into his left arm he carried her in one hand and slung his katana over his shoulder with the other. For a moment his own strength, nearly spent from the harrowing trek through the woods almost gave out but the promise of rest drove him further and the sight that greeted him nearly stopped his breath.  
  
Pyreflies by the thousands glittered beneath the water of a glassy pond in the middle of which perched a great tree that seemed to be painted by all the colors of the rainbow unlike the other trees of Macalania, which only contained the hues of ice.  
  
In the air the pyreflies danced as well, lighting the shore with a subtle multi-colored glow so ethereally dazzling that Auron realized that no words could ever describe it.  
  
"Beautiful," Leyla whispered her crimson eyes violet in the soft light. Her lids flickered then shut and she went slack in his arms.  
  
"No, Leyla!" Auron shouted, laying her out on the ground gently. He touched a finger to her throat and gasped in relief as he felt a faint flickering pulse there.  
  
He cursed himself for a fool, realizing that in his attempts to save her he had nearly ended her life himself. Though the constant running had kept her body heat up it had also expended it in vast amounts and now that she was still the cold would swallow her. Grasping her richly embroidered sleeve in one hand he realized that on top of the cold air her clothes were still damp, leeching more heat from her body. He had to warm her, and fast. Taking the wet sleeves and the collar off her shoulders was easy but the rest of the outfit baffled him. Somehow the leather scales were attached to the black strip of cloth that covered her breasts but how he was not sure. Propping her up in his arms he gave a sigh of relief as the catch on the back that connected the whole ensemble together released and loosened. Before removing it he lay her back down on the ground and removed his red overcoat, thanking Yevon that it had somehow remained dry and warm through the battle and the flight through the woods. First he undid the large belt that kept it from flapping in the wind then undid the leather straps that clinched the voluminous sleeve below the gauntlet. He redid his belt at the base of the breastplate but left the gauntlet where it lay on the ground.  
  
A faint flush came to his cheeks as he stripped Leyla's wet clothes off her frozen body. True they had not yet lain together but her mage's uniform left little to the imagination. Shivering slightly in the cool air he picked Leyla up as if she was a child and swaddled her in his oversized coat, leaving her clothes on the ground to dry and moved closer to the lake. He did not dare get in the water, no matter how warm it was for once out of the water the cold would return full force, freezing them to death. However, it did give off a steam in the cold air and the temperature was several degrees warmer on its shore.  
  
How long he sat there, cradling her body and rubbing it furiously to restore heat and circulation he did not know. Thoughts floated vaguely through his head, most panicked and dark. What if the shifter's spell had not faded but lurked inside her body, dropping her temperature till she froze to death no matter what he did? What if he had taken a wrong turn and they were only a few yards from where they had started? What if the beautiful waters of the pond were the home of the creature that had attacked them?  
  
As the what-ifs flooded his mind he gradually began to realize that his core body temperature was dropping dramatically and his furious rubbing had been reduced to a slow, tired stroke as his thoughts crawled in circles. He couldn't continue on like this, with his baggy pants and breastplate his only defense against the cold. Laying a hand (which he noticed was beginning to turn an alarming shade of white) on Leyla's cheek he could tell that though she was still cold to the touch she could survive a few moments without him.  
  
Wood. He needed something to start a fire with. With a mental slap he realized he was in the middle of a forest. Wood was abundant but he would need more than that for fire.  
  
He would have to wake Leyla, if only for a second, to get her to light it. But for now one thing at a time. Running as best he could he gathered fallen branches from around the forest floor, breaking off the dry icy coating to free wood dry enough to serve his purpose. He then carried the pile back to the makeshift campsite and began to stack it.  
  
"Leyla..." he murmured through frozen lips, "You have to wake up," But there was no response even when he shook her. One fogged thought after another began to clear and suddenly he realized that he did not need to wake her, he had flint and steel in his pocket. Yet even with those it took him what felt like an eternity of striking and fanning to get a tiny fire crackling and longer still to build it up to a point where it could sustain itself with only a little prodding on his part.  
  
With a sigh of relief as the heat from the fire began to melt the chill from his bones he returned to Leyla and drew her close, edging as near to the fire as he dared. The warmth soothed him and he was lulled into sleep by the sound of the fire crackling and the tiny waves lapping at the shore of the pond; with the woman he had come to love despite everything cradled in his arms and the pyreflies dancing around them like living stars.

* * *

"Auron?" a soft alto voice woke him from his doze. His first panicked thought was that the fire had gone out as he slept and that he needed to restart it so they wouldn't freeze...  
  
His eyelids cracked open and he was dazzled by the sudden white light that overcame his senses. The sun had risen and reflected off the ice like a thousand mirrors, throwing rainbows where the pyreflies had flown the night before. Squinting he saw that Leyla had dressed and that he was once again wrapped in his large crimson coat.  
  
"We're alive," he said groggily, unable to believe it for a moment.  
  
"Yes," Leyla said and her smile eclipsed the sunlight. "And Bevelle was the path right across from the one we took." Her words did not penetrate. She had not been there, had not seen her own frozen visage so close to death that every steaming breath had looked like her soul escaping. He impulsively reached for her and pulled her close, tighter than he had ever done the night before.  
  
"Auron!" she squawked and struggled for a moment but he only grasped her tighter until it felt as if their bodies had somehow merged into one.  
  
"We're alive," he whispered like a prayer. Suddenly all the reasons seemed meaningless, the chagrin and awkwardness the simple games of a child that obstructed what really mattered. He felt himself shaking and realized that he was weeping into her hair the color of a clouds breaking after a storm. He tried to pull her closer and realized he could not and that she was holding him just as tightly, two self-contained worlds that for a moment joined into one splendid whole.  
  
Forever.  
  
"Marry me, Leyla," his voice was choked by his tears and muffled by her closeness he kissed the side of her alabaster neck and she pulled away but only to return it hard on his lips. It was not their first kissed but it was a beginning, a start to something that they had both resisted so long they hadn't even realized it.  
  
"Yes," she said and he realized that she had been crying too, "Yevon be praised, yes."  
  
When they left that beautiful grove where they had nearly died and had been reborn, it was as one person, never to be separated in life or death.

* * *

1) Ed fyc y dannepma taleceuh du piemt eh dra settma uv dra fehdan mega drec. Yd drec nyda ed femm dyga dfela yc muhk! 

It was a terrible decision to build in the middle of the winter like this. At this rate it will take twice as long!

2) Fa ryt hu lruela, edc ymfyoc fehdan rana. Cusadrehk du tu fedr dra Fayth yd dra haynpo dasbma. 

We had no choice, its always winter here. Something to do with the Fayth at the nearby temple.

3) Frydajan oui cyo, Rin. 

Whatever you say, Rin.

* * *

A/N: As I have said before, every little review is more encouragement to continue this so please, please review! 


	6. Love and Forgiveness

The Birth of Pain

A/N: I know this has never come up in a review but I just felt like pointing out my reasoning for the very young age (18) the Auron and Leyla are getting married at besides the timeline requirement for Paine to be their daughter. True there is an in-game precedent, Yuna was only 17 when she agreed to marry Seymour. I feel it is justified by Sin. Because of Sin, the average Spiran life-expectancy is that of a suicidal mayfly so it is natural that like any culture where death at a young age is expected, they mature young and marry young.  
  
Speaking of age, Wednesday July 21st was my 17th birthday. The best present I can imagine from you, my beloved readers, would be a nice review. Please do so! We're getting very close to the chapter I've been waiting the whole fic to write, don't fail on me now!

* * *

Sin seemed far away that day in Bevelle when the sun shone pure white in the sky, bathing the bride and groom with a celestial light. Perhaps not even far away but non-existant, a bad dream that had plagued the world for nearly a thousand years.  
  
It was a joyful occasion, a celebration of not one but two warrior-monks being joined in holy matrimony under Yevon. All of Bevelle was a buzz about how the couple, though entitled to have the grand-maester of the warrior- monks proclaim the vows, had instead requested a fallen priest, the disgrace that had married an Al Bhed. They had even postponed their wedding a month so that the heathen woman could recover from giving birth to her daughter. There had been angry mutters about the half-Al Bhed, half Yevonite abomination but they had faded when it was learned that the clergy had "dealt with it".  
  
Though the couple had passed up their chance to have one of the highest ranking officials in Spira sanctify their union they had not passed up their entitled setting. Should a warrior-monk wish to wed, for of course it was not forbidden, they would do it no other place that the temple of St. Bevelle itself.  
  
Afterwards Auron and Leyla, now blissfully happy, had briefly thanked all the guests, mostly fellow warrior-monks in addition to a few of Leyla's relatives from Kilika. Lulu had been unable to attend due to her youth and lack of protection for the journey. Leyla had felt it was better that way, feeling more secure in the knowledge of her niece's safety than disappointed at her absence.  
  
Once the need for politeness had been satisfied, Auron and Leyla escaped to the balcony outside the temple, where Braska, Rikku, and their baby girl waited beside the railing. Beneath them stretched all of Bevelle, shining as beautiful and carefree as a jewel.  
  
"Congratulations, Auron," Braska said warmly, "And you as well, Leyla. You look very beautiful and I see you've managed to have Auron wear something other than that coat of his." Indeed she had for today the instead of the standard uniform that he was hardly ever seen without Auron was wearing a deep blue overcoat of a more formal cut with silver embroidery at the collar and sleeves now unbuttoned due to the heat of the summer sun. underneath he wore a crisp white shirt and black pants. Leyla's wedding dress was simple and form fitting white with a square neck that left the shoulders bare. At her waist dangled an ornamental silver belt like an oversized necklace.  
  
"The coat wasn't the difficult part, my Lord. The sword on the other hand..." Leyla grinned. Rikku snorted with laughter and it seemed that even the new baby was having a laugh at Auron's expense though she was far too young to know that the upturning of her lips as she sucked on her fingers could be taken for an amused smile.  
  
"Have you and Rikku finally decided on a name, my Lord?" Auron asked in an attempt to get off the subject of the creativity, or lack thereof, of his wardrobe.  
  
"It's been two weeks, Rikku. Any longer and she'll only respond to 'Hey, you,'" Leyla added.  
  
"I assure you that is not the case, Leyla," Braska said, "We both had our own ideas and unfortunately neither of us was willing to give in."  
  
"He wanted to name her after some old Yevonite priestess that's been dead for a thousand years. I had a much more practical one, an Al Bhed inventor who changed the world," Rikku said, shouldering the baby so she could tuck a strand of her shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear.  
  
"What did you finally decide on?" Leyla asked.  
  
"It seems that Rikku's inventor was male, she had been counting on the child being a boy which meant I should have won by default. But Rikku was not raised amongst us and doesn't understand the honor that we attach to the name Yunalesca," Braska explained.  
  
"Well it sure is a mouthful! And besides," a veil seriousness descended on her, "we Al Bhed respect the Summoners but I don't want to name my daughter after the woman who began a tradition of endless ritual sacrifice."  
  
"Not endless, Rikku. There is always a chance that Sin won't come back," Braska said, it sounded like an old argument that had ended in a stalemate, "We finally agreed on the nickname I had planned for her: Yuna," Braska said.  
  
"Yuna," Auron said aloud to himself. "It is a fine name, my Lord."  
  
"Thank you, Auron," Braska said.  
  
Auron traced a finger down the side of the infants face when something that had been niggling at the back of his thoughts came into the light, "Her eyes!" One of the girl's eyes was a deep ocean blue like her father's but her right eye was bright green, the same strange color shared by all the Al Bhed. All it lacked was the swirling pupil.  
  
"Yes. I am afraid she will always be marked by them," Braska said, "One day I hope she will bear it proudly, as a sign of unity between our two races and not as the stigma of a half-breed," there was more than a touch of bitterness in her voice.  
  
"Fear not, my friend, one day you're dream will come true," Auron said comfortingly yet there was strength behind his words, a strength that Braska had come to depend on though the younger warrior-monk had always felt that _he_ was the dependent.  
  
"We can _all_ hope," A thickly accented voice said from behind the cluster of newlyweds and new parents. The voice tickled at the back of Auron's memory but he could not place until he turned and saw the Al Bhed youth from Macalania, still in his yellow coat and blue pantaloons despite the formality of the occasion.  
  
"Please excuse the interruption but I have news for the Lady Rikku. It has been a long time, has it not?" Rin said  
  
"Would you introduce me to your friend, Rikku?" Braska whispered in his wife's ear. However, she seemed just as lost as he was then something clicked in her head.  
  
"Rin? I haven't seen you since you ran off three years ago. Where didja get the accent?" Rikku exclaimed.  
  
"Ahem," Rin had the grace to look embarrassed, "It is more of an affectation than an accent, I'm afraid. Something I picked up as I traveled Spira in search of sites for my travel agencies."  
  
"So that worked out, huh?" Rikku said then turned to her bewildered companions. "Rin was one of my brother's friends back Home but he left a few years ago to 'seek his fortune'. You might like him, _muja_, he also wants Yevonites and Al Bhed to get along."  
  
"_Hela du saad oui_," Rin greeted the fallen priest, "So you are the famous Yevonite who wishes to unite our people. I heard much of you while visiting Home but it has not been very complimentary of late. However, I have a feeling that is about to change soon," He turned back to Rikku. "I was sent here to give you a message from your brother: _Ra ec cunno yht fecrac du caa oui ykyeh du syga ysahtc_. He would like you to return Home whenever it is convenient."  
  
"My place is here, Rin. If Cid wanted to make amends he should have done it awhile ago," Rikku's cheeks flushed, turning to Braska she carefully placed baby Yuna into his arms and turned the full force of her anger on the Al Bhed merchant, "What's with the sudden change of heart? Why is he being all brotherly now? Where was he when Braska and I were married? Oh, now I remember! He banished us and refused to talk to me!"  
  
"Tell him no! I'm not coming back so that he can feel better about himself but I will extend the invitation to Yuna in case she ever wants to meet her relatives back Home," Rikku spat, "You tell him that Rin. I never want to see him again but he's never going to stop Yuna if she wants to go back!"  
  
"My lady, I am just a messenger and I will not be returning Home for at least a year. If you wish to tell him these things you must tell him yourself. He has already arranged for a ship to come for you in six months time should you require it," Rin said.  
  
"How generous of him. What about that whole 'at your own convenience' thing, huh?" Rikku ranted.  
  
Rin shrugged helplessly, "I am very sorry Lady Rikku but there is nothing more I can do. I do hope that you will consider his offer though," with that he bowed to the bride and groom, "I apologize for interrupting the festivities. _Syo oui ryja syho zuovim oaync dukadran_," ignoring the glares of priests and warrior-monks who recognized him by his bright yellow hair for an Al Bhed, Rin descended the stairs and was quickly out of sight.  
  
"Ooh, that man!" Rikku fumed.  
  
"You should go, Rikku," Braska said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He is your brother and they are your people. Yuna will be fine with me."  
  
"After what he did?" Rikku said pleadingly. "He may be my brother but that...that was unforgivable."  
  
"He had his reasons, Rikku, it would be best if you heard him out."  
  
"Oh..." Rikku rubbed at her eyes which had become large and liquid. Auron realized that she was on the edge of breaking down.  
  
"It is not for another six months, my lady, and you do not have to forgive him," Auron said.  
  
"Forgive him? You have every right to knock him senseless, which I'm sure you'll do," Leyla said with a wink. Rikku looked heartened and turned back to her husband.  
  
"You're sure you'll be ok while I'm gone, Braska?" she said.  
  
"There is nothing to fear, Yuna and I will be fine," Braska said.  
  
"I guess... Alright its settled! I just hope Cid knows what he's getting himself into," Rikku grinned wickedly and Auron felt a fleeting pang of pity for the unsuspecting Al Bhed.

* * *

1) Muja

Love

2)Hela du saad oui

Nice to meet you

3) Ra ec cunno yht fecrac du caa oui ykyeh du syga ysahtc

He is sorry and wishes to see you again to make amends.

4) Ra ec cunno yht fecrac du caa oui ykyeh du syga ysahtc

May you have many joyful years together.

* * *

A/N: I was a little disappointed about the number of reviews for the last chapter but I thank profusely the one's who gave them. Please, remember my brithday and leave a review! 


	7. Father

The Birth of Pain  
  
Disclaimer: See Prologue.  
  
A/N: I apologize profusely for the wait. My excuse is that the first draft of this chapter royally sucked but I couldn't muster the energy to start from scratch so for a while I was diverted from BoP by a FFX-characters-in-our world story which I may post soon under the working title Urban Fantasy. Anyway, now Birth of Pain is back and hopefully I can get out of the momentary block that has killed so many of my other fics. But I must finish this fic. I WILL finish this fic!

Edited: August 13, 2004

* * *

A Father.  
  
The words rang in Auron's head, superseding all other thought.  
  
He was going to be a Father.  
  
The world seemed to tilt around him and he was only saved from a graceless fall to the floor by his proximity to the bed. Even then the extra support of his arm was a welcome balance.  
  
"I found out this morning from the Healer when I told them about how I've been getting sick every morning," she smiled, "I think I already knew but I wanted to make sure before I told you."  
  
"...Does anyone else know?" Auron asked, speaking the first coherent thoughts that came to mind.  
  
"I think Rikku figured it out when I turned green at breakfast before she left for Home yesterday, but you are the first one I told. As if you wouldn't be!" Leyla laughed, taking a seat on his lap.  
  
"So what do you think? A boy or a girl?" Leyla asked seriously.  
  
"Either. It doesn't matter as long as it's our child," Auron said with complete honesty. He knew that most father's had a preference for sons, perhaps a predisposition that grew out of the desire to see a smaller version of themselves running around but the idea of a baby girl, perhaps with Leyla's beautiful eyes and something of him in her nose or mouth seemed equally attractive. Leyla's smile widened, obviously that had been the right answer.  
  
"I almost forgot," Auron said, shifting her weight to the side so he could reach inside his coat. When his gloved hand emerged there was something wrapped around his fingers, shining in the afternoon light from the window.  
  
It was a necklace.  
  
Leyla's eyes widened in delight and she pulled her tightly braided hair away from her neck so Auron could do the clasp. It hung just below her collarbone like a silver flower suspended from simple chain the color of her hair. Its design was a strange one, like petals emerging from an upside-down heart.  
  
"Oh, Auron, it's beautiful," Leyla said, "But how...? You only just found out about the child."  
  
"I saw it in a shop while on my way to see Lord Braska," Auron shrugged, "It reminded me of you."  
  
Leyla touched a finger to the pendant, tracing its design with her delicate white fingers. Leaning forward planted a kiss on Auron's lips that was returned fervently. Just as things began to escalate pleasantly a polite knock sounded at the door. Auron was the first to break it and Leyla scooted off his lap to allow him to stand.  
  
"Enter," Auron called, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.  
  
A sixteen year old boy with a shock red hair that turned orange at the tips poke his head into the room, oblivious to the fact he had just broken up what was fast becoming an intimate moment.  
  
"What is it, Yanno?" Leyla sighed, walking towards the door. "My apprentice," she explained, glancing at Auron over her shoulder.  
  
"Sorry if I interrupted anything, my lady mage, but we were supposed to meet for lessons a half hour ago," Yanno said.  
  
"Why didn't you just take the day off then?" Leyla asked but the look of complete bafflement on the apprentice's face drew another sigh and she shrugged helplessly at Auron. "Perhaps you can go tell Lord Braska the news while I'm gone."  
  
"I shall," he replied, at a loss for anything else to do with patrols done an hour ago. The idea of being a Father stilled swirled excitedly at the back of his thoughts, only mildly dampened by the interruption. Leyla kissed him chastely on the cheek as he passed by, the apprentice dodging out of the red-coated warrior-monks path.

The city was quiet today but there was a murmur of excitement beneath the calm facade that passed from person to person like an electric charge. Whatever the cause it was infectious and Auron was surprised to find a slight grin twitching the corner of his lips. Or perhaps that was just because of the child.

Auron knocked on Braska's door, knowing that at this time of the day the priest was certainly home to take care of little Yuna. Before Braska had come from Home with Rikku as his new wife he had lived in the temple like most of the other priests. However, the constant disapproval of the Yevon clergy had been wearing and the couple had moved into a modest home in the city in order to find some measure of peace.

Auron waited a moment but the silence that followed led him to knock again, this time more insistently.  
  
_Strange_, he thought to himself, _is it possible he's still out_?  
  
He a final time and was just about to leave when he heard a muffled sound from within. Taking that for an invitation to enter, he hesitantly cracked open the door and let himself in. The first thing he noticed was Yuna, now over six months old, asleep in her crib at the far side of the room near the entrance to the kitchen. The next was a crumpled form, lying just passed the open door to the bedroom.  
  
"My lord!" Auron cried, running to the fallen priest's side. A wave of relief rushed through him as he took the man's shaking form into his arms and realized with a feeling like the ground giving way to a bottomless pit that Braska was crying.

* * *

The word had come this morning in the form of a jubilant Bevellian fisherman.  
  
An Al Bhed ship that had been sighted leaving Bevelle the other day had been followed by a contingency of warrior-monks and Crusaders who saw this as their chance to discover the whereabouts of the Al Bhed Home. Few had known about the venture outside of the maesters and the crew, for even the teachings of Yevon were not enough to dissuade all Yevonites from fraternizing with the Al Bhed and a word in the wrong ear could ruin everything. 

This was their chance to strike at the infidels, perhaps cripple them permanently. After an attack that destroyed the center of the Al Bhed population several options opened: allow the scattered remnants to be hunted down one by one until their race was eradicated or show mercy and bring them under the wing of Yevon on the condition that they swear permanent allegiance to Bevelle and convert in their entirety. Either outcome was favorable to the maesters.  
  
They had briefly lost sight of the ship as it approached a large island under the cover of darkness but a refracted light had caught the eye of one of the crew members and the black sailed ship powered secretly by mechs had resumed its stalking.

Only their faith in Yevon had saved them from what happened next. Sin emerged from the water like a gargantuan misshapen whale, its toxin floating across the water in all directions, a swirling black miasma that drove all the members on board the Bevellian ship below deck. The sound of Spira's Suffering followed them below, inhuman moans and cries that rang in the men's head's even when they covered their ears to block out the sound, as if the death knells of the millions of Spirans who had succumbed to Sin over the past millennia were drilling inside their skulls in order to say that _this_ was the suffering they had known before they died.  
  
Then the real screams had begun.  
  
Even the bravest and most weathered veterans of the warrior monks cringed in fear, some dropping down into a crouch, hands over their ears to stop the sound of screeching metal and tortured screams that were all too real. One young Crusader had run screaming for the deck, crying that he was a Crusader, damn it!, and he would fight to protect _all_ the people of Spira, not just the faithful! Someone had had the presence of mind to knock the boy senseless with the pommel of their sword, thus silencing his protests. The Al Bhed did not deserve this boy's zeal or their lives.

Even with that in mind, however, many of the warriors who waited amongst the ragged gasps of their fellows, trying mentally to drown out the heathens' death cries could not stop the small corner of their thoughts that agreed with that reckless youth.  
  
The trill of machina and crunch of metal had quieted but could still be heard in the distance throughout the night. The Crusaders and warrior-monks, sworn protectors of the people of Spira, stayed within their ship, afraid to move a muscle.

When morning came one brave soul had gone to the deck. What he saw worse than any scene of carnage dreamt up in nightmare.  
  
The ship they had been tracking along with the entire island that had undoubtedly held the Al Bhed Home, was _gone_, reduced to flotsam and jetsam floating in and out on the tide. Had the man noticed he would have seen a single ship, a different one, larger, than that which they had been stalking the night before, fleeing the destruction.  
  
Truly a great victory for Yevon.  
  
The senior commander had been about to give the order to return to Bevelle with all speed and 'attracting Sin be damned' when the zealous young Crusader from the night before had approached him, sporting a large lump on the back of his head from where he had been struck, frantically telling the commander to hold his order.  
  
The boy had been in training to become a Summoner the year before but his nerve had failed him outside the Cloister of Trials in Djose. Ashamed at his own cowardice he had given up on being a Summoner but could not shake his desire to help the people of Spira and so had become a Crusader.  
  
All he asked now was the chance to direct the souls of the Al Bhed who had died here to the Farplane.  
  
The senior commander had considered calling some of his own men to take the boy out of his sight. A failed Summoner, one that had given up his pilgrimage and his duty to defeat Sin and bring the Calm was lower than dirt but he could see the desperation bordering on frenzy in the boy's eyes and had relented. If Sin had not attacked them yet, then likely it it had moved on and another hour in this place would not make any difference. And besides, thousands of Al Bhed were bad enough but thousands of fiends would only make his job harder in the future. With a dismissive wave he had given the boy permission to perform the sending providing it took no more than an hour. The boy had thanked him profusely and run off in search of a staff.  
  
The senior commander had seen many sendings but none of this magnitude. The boy had stepped out onto the water, still in his Crusader's armor, a borrowed black mage's staff in hand and began the sending dance with a circular swoop of his staff. His movements were shaky at first but they gained confidence with each practiced step. A geyser of water shot up beneath him, obscuring the boy from sight then revealing him again, dancing at the top without having missed a step. Hundreds of pyreflies began to swirl around him, then thousands, coming from miles around and engulfing the boy in a vortex.  
  
A pyrefly floated lazily past the commander's face and despite himself he reached out to touch it.  
  
_...A baby girl, with mismatched blue and green eyes cradled in her arms...  
  
... Gazing across the bed at a beloved husband, his long blue hair in a tangled pool around him as he slept after a night of lovemaking...  
  
...warmth bubbling inside at the sight of her Home...  
  
...Love...  
  
...Betrayal...  
_  
Lost.

Whoever that woman had been was lost. The commander realized he was weeping silently at the loss of life. Of Al Bhed life. But for once it didn't matter and the sheer magnitude of pyreflies that obscured the young Crusader from sight suddenly lost its beauty and became monstrous as each shining streak became a piece of what had once been a living, breathing person who had laughed and loved just as any follower of Yevon.  
  
It did not surprise him to see tears in the eyes of those around him as the Crusader twirled the staff one last time, holding it upside-down as the geyser diminished. For a moment the boy seemed to glow with power as he strode back to the ship, his last step landing him gracefully on the deck. A single pyrefly disappeared into the sky behind him and was lost from sight.  
  
No words were spoken as the ship made its solemn way back to Bevelle Port. Those who had seen the display disembarked and returned to their families if they had them, the need to see and hold their loved ones driving all thoughts of duty from their mind. Those who had not spread the news, saying the time of Atonement, when Sin disappeared for good was perhaps near at hand for the heathen Al Bhed had been nearly eradicated along with their machina.  
  
The senior commander and announced his resignation that day.  
  
The young Crusader, having found new resolve, re-donned his Summoner's robes and resumed his pilgrimage.  
  
And Braska had learned from a jubilant Bevellian fisherman, smirking at the genocide of the Al Bhed, that his wife was dead.

* * *

"My lord, what has happened?!" Auron asked as Braska sobbed like a child in his arms.  
  
"She's dead... oh, Yevon... I-I..._so muja ec tayt_!" Braska cried. "Sin has taken her!" and with that his words degenerated back into sobs.  
  
"Rikku is dead?" Auron said, the words sounded unreal.  
  
"All of the Al Bhed are gone," Braska rasped.  
  
"But my lord, that is impossible! How could..." The words stuck in his throat. "Sin."  
  
"Sin destroyed her ship then her Home," Braska said, his voice ragged and hoarse. "My love is dead." He swayed to his feet and crossed the room to his daughter's crib. Her mismatched eyes were closed in and her delicate pink lips were parted as she slept on despite the noise, unaware of her loss.  
  
Braska stroked her downy soft hair, twisting the light brown strands between his fingers. "This world is not safe for you, Yuna. I have tried to protect you all of your life and your mother as well," another tear slid down his cheek, "But in the end I could not. I am...so sorry."  
  
"Its not your fault, my lord," Auron said, "There are some things that you cannot change. Only a Summoner could have stopped Sin."  
  
Braska looked at him, his startling blue eyes all the more so for the red that rimmed them, and for a moment Auron was afraid. Afraid of the strange light that he saw flickering in his friend's eyes. He blinked at its intensity but when he looked back it was gone, leaving him to wonder if it had just been his imagination. "You're right, Auron. Only a Summoner can protect Yuna from Sin."  
  
"My lord?" Auron's eyes widened in realization, "No, my lord! You can't become a Summoner! Who then would care for Yuna?" Auron said. Braska's shoulders sagged and he stopped his idle tracing of Yuna's features.  
  
"Don't worry, Auron. I would not leave Yuna alone," Braska said. "Why did you come here, Auron?" Braska asked suddenly, catching the warrior-monk off-guard.  
  
"My lord, this may not be the time to tell you..." Auron said.  
  
"Please, Auron," Braska said with a pained expression, "What news could be any worse that what I have already heard today?"  
  
"Leyla...is with child, my lord, she is due in six months," an idea struck him; "If it is a girl perhaps we could name her in memory of Rikku."  
  
The skin around Braska's eyes tightened for a second, "No. But thank you, Auron, for your consideration. I would...rather not have another bear Rikku's name. It was hers and one of the few things I have to remember her by," Images of his beautiful Al Bhed wife flashed through his mind and tears returned unbidden to his eyes.  
  
"Congratulations, Auron, may the three of you have many happy years together. If you'll excuse me..." Auron bowed his head respectfully and closed the door quietly as he left his friend with his daughter and his grief.

* * *

1) So muja ec tayt! 

My love is dead!

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. The next chapter is hopefully going to be the best so to get it fast please review to show how much you love (or hate, flames don't bother me unless they have proper spelling and grammar) me.

* * *

For more information on fics by me and future updates check out my author page on enter in this link without the spaces.

http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /

Note: The link on my author page is the same as the above.

* * *


	8. The Birth of Pain

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

A/N: I apologize profusely for the wait but life outside called. Special thanks to all my readers for their patience in waiting so long. This is the most critical chapter in the story so it required my special attention.

In my haste to post this as soon as possible I may have neglected to fix a few spelling errors. Rest assured that if there are any they will be fixed next time I have extended internet access. For now, enjoy the story!

* * *

The air was thick with smoke and crying pyreflies floating into the sky on the screams of the living and dying. As it is often said when inconceivable carnage that has taken place in Spira, Bevelle had the look of the Farplane. But then, the Farplane is a sugar-spun paradise, a heaven for both the deserving and the non for how could one eternally damn to any sort of Hell those who were already cursed by Sin?

Bevelle, that day, was Hell.

For if Hell was a place where our past failures and most horrible moments come back to haunt us then Bevelle, that day, would be played again and again before Auron's damned soul for eternity.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside," the young acolyte Belgemine said like a waitress informing a patron that there order would be ready as soon as it was done.

"My wife is in there, girl, and I _will_ be with her when the time comes," Auron growled and moved to walk past the young woman.

"But, sir, your wife was the one who told us not to let you pass," she protested, stepping in front of him and spreading her arms to bar his path. "She just went into labor; it could take hours before the child is born," Auron paid her no heed but simply shoved her aside and continued through.

One of the nurses gave him a startled glance as his ground-eating stride brought him swiftly to the door wherein lay his wife and soon his child. He and Leyla had agreed to let the child's sex remain unknown until the day of its birth and despite his composure before Belgemine his throat was dry and his palm sweaty beneath the glove. Just as he reached for the knob a scream like a death knell rent the air and he threw caution to the wind and barged through the door.

"…_AND TELL THAT SINSPAWNED SON OF A SHOOPUFF THAT HE CAN_…!"

And closed it abruptly just as Belgemine came trotting up behind him.

"I told you, sir monk. Childbirth is a very trying time for a woman and the first is often the worst. She is not in the mood to see anyone right now," Belgemine explained breathlessly to the somewhat shell-shocked warrior-monk. Auron nodded to acknowledge the girl's presence and silently walked back to where he had been sat before. He could wait. How long could it take?

* * *

3 Hours Later

Auron seized Belgemine's wrist as she dashed out of the birthing room clutching a basket of blood-soaked rags.

"How is she? Has the child been born yet?!" Auron asked frantically

"No, sir, but soon," Belgemine gasped quickly then pulled her arm free and dashed off.

Auron reached after her when suddenly he felt tremors pass through his body from the soles of his boots rattling its way up to his skull. The doors and windows began to shudder as if being struck repeatedly by a giant fist.

"Wha-? Is someone…" Belgemine yelped and was pitched to the floor as the quakes rocked the temple's foundation.

"An earthquake?!" Auron shouted over the noise when suddenly the shaking stopped.

Silence fell, amongst the sound of chipped plaster hitting the floor.

…

…

"_SIN!_"

Echoing the cry was the sound of Spira's Suffering, tens of thousands of phantasmal voices crying out in their final agony, accompanied by the tearing of stone.

"Don't just sit there, girl, go! Sound the alarm!" Auron shouted and bolted out the door down the long curving hallway of the palace, not pausing to see if the acolyte had obeyed. Dashing down a pair of darkened twisting steps that led to the armory, Auron did not waste time seeking out his own sword but grabbed a great curved katana off the rack, hefted it to test the balance, then slung it over his shoulder and dove back the way he had come.

He emerged from the massive temple doors into a scene of chaos. Warrior-monks, priests and civilians alike milled around in what looked like confusion to the untrained eye but in truth held practiced purpose as defenses were readied and men took their stations. In the distance he could see that one of the supports of the Palace, the west stairway, had been severed and the other five were covered in Sinspawn. An elderly man in the robes of the Yevon clergy tried to scurry past but Auron wrenched him back. "Where is Sin?!" he shouted, barely able to hear his own voice over the clamor.

The priest wheezed something feebly and Auron shouted for him to repeat it. Instead the priest pointed to the sky and pulled free, revealing his face for a split second. Auron realized with horror that he had just manhandled Grand Maester Mika but it was only a small rush in comparison to his nearly hysterical fear for Leyla, confined to a bed, wracked by the birth pangs of their child.

His eyes rose slowly in the direction that Mika had pointed. At first he saw nothing but suddenly what he had taken for a storm cloud detached itself from the rest of the burning sky. Sin in all its monstrous glory was too far away to make out clearly, a temporary blessing to those on the ground. Around it, buzzing like a gnat in comparison to its bulk, Evrae's serpentine length dove in and out of its fins alternately scratching it with its scythe-like claws and repeatedly exhaling its breath attack. Even from thousands of feet below it was obvious that the guardian wyrm was doing a great deal of damage but to little avail. Somewhere in the Palace of St. Bevelle a ring of four Summoner-priests sat in deep meditation, conjuring the great wyrm. Should the circle be broken or Evrae take too much damage, the protector of Bevelle would be dismissed and it would be up to mortals and their Aeons to protect their home.

"Auron! To me!" a voice bellowed. Auron turned to see Kinoc and twelve other men from his squad running towards him. "Praise be to Yevon, we feared we had lost you too," Kinoc said, panting slightly, "Commander Ralleth is dead and the Sinspawn have nearly overrun the West stairwell! Lord Braska and squads 12 and 31 are already there."

"Leyla is in the temple, Kinoc!" Auron said.

"Is it her time?!" Kinoc said, realization flooding his face, "There is nothing for it, she is safer there than anywhere else."

Auron nodded reluctantly and raced along with his squad to the stairway. Soon, all his thoughts had turned to battle.

* * *

As the final rasping cry died away it was replaced with a newer, smaller one.

"It's a girl, my lady mage," the midwife's aid said gently and wrapped the newborn in a soft white blanket. Leyla gave an exhausted gasp and fell back against the pillows breathing heavily, her body too worn out even to shudder in the aftermath of the pain.

"Let me see her," Leyla panted and the aid gently placed the child into her arms. The babe gave a final angry wail then calmed, as if sensing the presence of her mother. Leyla gazed tenderly down at her. The babe was still damp from the birthing and her scrunched face looked strange and alien but the wash of love that swept through Leyla defied all that.

"Meva," she whispered, "Her name is Meva."

"Meva?" the aid said, unaware that she was now butting in on a private moment between mother and daughter. "That's a strange name, sounds almost heathen."

"It is Al Bhed, if that is what you mean," Leyla said without looking up then murmured for the child's ears alone "I could not giver her your name, Rikku, but that does not mean I cannot name her in remembrance."

"What does it mean?" the aid pressed, her curiosity overwhelming her.

"Life," Leyla whispered and closing her eyes lay back against the bed, her child cradled to her breast.

Thinking perhaps that the woman had fallen asleep, the aid reached to take the infant for her first bath when a low rumble shook the floor of the room. Leyla's crimson eyes snapped open.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing, my lady," the aid said nervously, "Please, allow me to wash the child."

"You know something," Leyla said, her eyes becoming dangerous despite their fatigue. She shifted Meva to her other arm, away from the aid. "Tell me."

"There was some sort of disturbance so the midwife left me in charge to assist the final stages of the birthing while she healed the wounded. Please, my lady, the child," the aid said, becoming distraught.

"What sort of disturbance?" Leyla hissed.

The aid's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Sin, my lady."

Leyla's eyes widened, "Auron."

The aid mistook her distress, "Don't worry, my lady. We are protected here. The priests and the warrior-monks will drive Sin away."

"You foolish child," Leyla rasped. "Here, take her," she carefully placed Meva into aid's arm and pushed herself into a sitting position.

"My lady, you cannot!" the aid cried. Meva awoke from her doze and began to wail, her little lungs working so that the sound that emerged was more akin to a scream of pain than hunger.

"Heal me," Leyla said. The aid simply stared at her, "You are a white mage, I can tell from your robes. Heal me!"

The girl gave a terrified nod and carefully placed Meva in a crib beside the bed. Taking a deep breath she crossed her hands above her head and brought them down in the sign of prayer. The air sparkled as a rush of energy flooded into the black mage. For a moment she could feel her body returning itself partially to the way it had been before the pregnancy. "Thank you," she said, her voice strengthened from the healing. Pushing herself off the bloodstained bed she stumbled slightly and straightened. Walking past the panting aid, she lowered herself over the crib where her daughter cried. "Be strong," she whispered, "I will return soon. With your father," she kissed the child's brow, running a long white finger down her face and turned back to the aid. "Take care of her until I return."

"Wh-where are you going?" she asked. Leyla glanced towards the door.

"My husband is out there and my squad. I must be there to help them fight Sin."

"But my lady!" Leyla looked at her and the words died on the aid's tongue, "Your staff and uniform are in your quarters."  
  
Leyla nodded her thanks and left the room, the aid, and her daughter in safety behind her.

* * *

"That's the last of them," Kinoc said, lifting his helmet to wipe the sweat from his brow. When Auron didn't respond he followed the taller man's gaze skyward just in time to see Evrae writhe in agony and explode into a thousand pyreflies.

* * *

Being once against in her mage's uniform was both a comfort and an irritation. She had not worn it now for several months but even with the birth of the child it required adjustment to fit her. Despite that the familiar heavy sleeves and wide-brimmed hat returned her once more to a place of focus and allowed her to enter the calm that was required in order to cast the elemental spells. Hefting her jade-tipped staff she strode passed the milling nuns and priests in the palace's main hall with an air of composure that she held onto by a fingernail.

I should not be here, she thought, _I have just given birth. I do not have the strength now to cast spells!_ But the thought of her husband outside and her child within drove these thoughts from her mind. Slinging the staff over her shoulder she pushed open the massive temple doors, clutching them as she did so for support and entered the maelstrom.

* * *

Sin fell to earth with deceptive slowness, its vast bulk covering the thousands of feet between it and the towers of Bevelle so that it seemed not so much that it was approaching but that it was growing larger and larger in the sky until with frightening clarity it was upon them, eclipsing the sun and covering the city with its shadow.

Auron had fought Sin before but it had always been from the water. There had always been only one front to fight on, one place to stand and keep the encroaching Sinspawn away from the heart of the city. Never in living memory had Sin attacked from the air and suddenly he wished that Leyla was by his side for a different reason, for what good was his sword against that awesome majesty?

Around him his fellow warrior-monks fell to their knees as one by one they were struck by the impossibility of their task. Some began to weep as Sin stopped just above the topmost spire. It underbelly crackled with energy as countless elemental spells danced through the folds of its armor with the occasional flare exploding amongst them. To Auron's eyes it seemed the only thing keeping the behemoth from crushing them all.

* * *

"Grand Maester Mika, we cannot ask you to do this. This-this is unprecedented! Please, allow another to go in your stead," High Priest Kabrek pleaded as he walked alongside the ancient Maester.

"There…is not other, Kabrek," Mika wheezed as each faltering step took him closer to the Chamber of Summons, recently vacated by the Summoner-priests of the guardian wyrm. "There are none who remember."  
  
"But your Holiness, the cost!" protested Kabrek, his heart heavy. He already knew that the Grand Maester in his infinite resolve could not be swayed. He knew that the other High Priests would say no different than him but their words would be hollow and false, barely concealing their fiendish hunger to advance themselves in the hierarchy. It had been Kabrek's unwavering faith rather than his wit or wiliness that had gained him the position of High Priest and ever since attaining that position he had found a kindred spirit in Grand Maester Mika. Only the Grand Maester amongst Kabrek's superiors had shared the same zeal in the service of Yevon.

A zeal he would now put forth into protecting Bevelle with his life.

Mika's parchment lips turned up in the tiniest of smiles, "I am old, Kabrek, and have dedicated my life in service of Yevon. Let me now dedicate my death," Despite these brave words, the Grand Maester's heart trembled. For all his words, Mika feared for Spira once it was bereft of his capable leadership.

Kabrek bowed to mask the tears that had begun to flood his eyes, "As you will, your Holiness."

The Grand Maester took his seat in the center of the circular chamber and assumed a meditative position. Taking one last look at his mentor's peaceful visage, Kabrek solemnly made the sign of prayer and closed the door behind him.

* * *

A Meteor Strike collided with one of the fins as the Summoners took the field. They stood in full battle array on the Highbridge, scepters and staffs in hand as they urged the Aeons on. Bahamut flexed and the blue fire of the Impulse burned in his clenched fists then shot forward, taking Sin in one of its hundred eyes. Spira's Suffering rose higher into the air to escape this unexpected resistance just as a spear of ice descended from the heavens and crashed into its skull.

Sin roared in pain and it seemed as if time slowed. The great ribbed tail came up high like a sword prepared to strike then cut down through metal and stone, rending the Palace of St. Bevelle asunder. A shock wave ripped through the city, throwing all the warrior-monks to their knees. It carried with it a wave of brown dust and debris that engulfed the defenders and obscured the world from sight. Auron face and eyes stung as his wounds from the debris and the Sinspawn as well as his lungs were filled with the dust of crumpled temple.

For a moment while his ears were deafened by the tearing stone and his eyes were blocked by its ashes and all his other senses were simply overwhelmed, Auron wondered perhaps if he had died. The thought that occurred to him next made him wish he had.

Leyla was in the temple.

He tried to push himself to his feet but all feeling had left his body.

Leyla was in the temple!

He saw her trapped in the bed, surrounded by blood from the birthing, the walls of the room crumbling around her. He could see her screaming.

He could feel her dying.

"No," he gasped, choking on the dust that filled his lungs. Using his katana has a crutch he pushed himself to his feet and began to stumble towards the heart of the destruction.

"No, Auron, you cannot! The bridge could collapse at any time!" a voice called through the haze.

Auron turned and through the dust an apparition approached. Garbed in strange robes like feathers it was almost impossible to tell the sex of the speaker by appearances. Only the voice was recognizable. "Lord Braska?" Auron said hesitantly. There was no telling the color of the robes through the layer of dust but they were certainly not the robes of a priest of Yevon. The headdress was the strangest part of all, similar to a crown with a long ribbon of cloth hanging down his back, giving the priest the odd appearance of a quail.

"Sin is not finished yet," Braska said grimly, looking through the haze to the sky. A pale, rose-colored light shown through as Sin prepared for its final attack.

* * *

Kabrek felt the cold, unforgiving marble against his cheek and vaguely wondered how he had ended up face down on the floor, his body wracked with pain. Tentatively he tried to flex his arms but the pain that followed was enough to make him cry out through clenched teeth. With a whimper he tried instead to open his eyes. For a disorienting moment he thought he must be on the Farplane for there was Grand Maester Mika, his form translucent as pyreflies dodged in and out of his skin.

Kabrek opened his mouth to speak but no words came. The sight of his mentor and superior drove out all thought, even of pain, with the joy that it caused. But something was wrong. Agony twisted his body and there was no feeling on the Farplane, was there? Raising his eyes he sought answers in Mika's face, now filled contrastingly with fatherly affection and deadly purpose.

"_I am sorry, my son. I have failed_," Mika said, his voice cracked and old even in death. "_My life was not sufficient to create a barrier against Sin_," Kabrek nodded and smiled. It was alright. "_Forgive me_."  
  
Kabrek wanted to reach out and touch the dry, parchment skin of the old man's cheek, to say aloud that he forgave him but a strange feeling had come over his body. Mika's hand was on his chest and it was as solid as any living being's yet it was cold as death.

Kabrek's thoughts went from love for this old man to the realization that he was _alive_, that he was not yet on the Farplane! But before his eyes his body began to dissolve and his consciousness floated up on a stream of pyreflies. _His_ pyreflies.

Kabrek's last thought was a realization. Mika was dead but he was still alive. Kabrek was alive.

But now he was dead.

The room crackled with energy as a tiny blue barrier shot through with purple lightning no bigger than a bubble appeared where Kabrek's body had once been. It rotated and expand, filling the room until it was lost from sight, expanding out over the city.

"I am sorry, Kabrek, my son; but Bevelle needs me more than it needs you," Mika said and turned his attention to the barrier.

* * *

The mouth of Sin began to open and all Auron could do was watch.

On either side of Sin's elongated jaw strips of flesh like teeth stretched and came undone like clay being torn in two. Light began to collect there, shaping itself into a ball of crackling pink energy swirling with white and purple. The smell of fire and ozone choked the air and the ball grew until it was easily the size of the temple that Sin had so carelessly crushed.

This is it, this is the end, Auron realized, closing his eyes. _Leyla, I will see you again on the Farplane._

The ball of energy shot forward, straight towards the heart of Bevelle, cutting everything in its path. Molecules of air were severed cleanly as the inexorable beam of light sliced down.

An explosion rocked Bevelle to its core, shaking free anything that had not already fallen. Despite his resolve to follow Leyla to the Farplane, Auron threw up his hands to cover his face from what he knew was certain death.

A breath.

Two.

Nothing happened.

Slowly cracking open one eye Auron raised his vision and saw the impossible.

A blue energy field like a bubble laced with violet lightning engulfed the city in its entirety. The energy from Sin's attack crackled and rolled off the outside of the barrier, which flexed in and out precariously close to the spire of St. Bevelle.

Sin pressed the attack and the barrier flexed inward, cleanly chopping off the tip of the spire. But as one part flexed in the other pushed out, brushing Sin's burnt underbelly. Where it touched it sizzled and the smell of burning meat filled the air. The cry of the voices that emitted from Sin like sweat doubled in pitch and volume, chorusing the creature's own cry of pain. It stumbled and fell, catching itself only inches from the surface of the barrier. Then with one last scream of inhuman rage it turned back towards the sea in search of easier targets and was lost from sight.

Yet at what cost?

Aftershocks shivered through the city in the aftermath of the destruction, sending plumes of dust into the air so thick that the sun in the cloudless sky was veiled by the brown dust. Here and there bits of masonry shuddered then gave in to the force of gravity and screams erupted from those who had stood on or under them.

Auron was oblivious to all of this. The feeling fully restored to his legs he dashed towards the temple, keeping his eyes trained on it while simulataneously attempting to block the image of its ruined shell from penetrating his mind. _She was in the inner infirmary_, he thought desperately,_ she is safe. As long as she was there, she was safe!_

The Highbridge was smoking but intact but the three Summoners who had stood upon it in their heroic stand against Sin were nowhere to be found. It could only be assumed that they had survived, for the Aeons had been dismissed and somewhere through the smoke that covered the city, pyreflies were floating up on the winds of death.

As he neared the temple Auron felt a wash of relief so great it almost brought him to his knees. The infirmary was in the lower right wing of the temple and only the courtyard along with the front entrance had been severely damaged. He hardly even saw the priests and acolytes as they milled around, attending to the wounded hidden amongst the great stone blocks. Picking the clearest path he could find through the wreckage he kept his eyes trained on the temple doors when something crunched under his boot. Glancing down he saw shards of pale jade stone scattered around the broken globe of a Rod of Wisdom.

Sickening horror turned his insides to ice. He closed his eyes but knew he must look, he must know. Stepping off the cleared trail that led to the temple he carefully picked his way through the garden of debris. Around him a team of warrior-monks from another squad had banded together to lift some of the stone to free people and corpses that had been pinned beneath.

I should go, she is not here, Auron thought_, She is not here, she is waiting inside with the child, if it has been born yet,_ One of the teams had moved back to where he had found the broken jade. They rolled a fair sized boulder onto the cart and a flash of silver caught Auron's eye.

Oh, Yevon, NO! Unable to maintain his composure any longer he moaned in fear and stumbled back the way he had come. His sword fell to the ground the ground with a clatter.

At first he could not see her. His mind simply could not comprehend what was before him. It was not Leyla, this pathetic, lifeless thing before him was not his wife, it was incapable of ever having been the shell of her soul. Nonetheless his body knew what his mind could not and he sunk to his knees beside her. And as if proximity to the body somehow brought clarity of mind he carefully gathered her into his arms and he knew.

A single thin trail of blood, already beginning to dry, trickled from her mouth. Her eyes, usually the deep crimson of heart's blood, had misted over to a shade of dark pink and remained open and staring into the burning sky. Her expression, so very _dead_ was neither in pain nor at peace. It looked as if someone had constructed a wax doll of her, and not a very realistic one at that. Devoid of all sparkle.

Of all life.

"No, Leyla, no…please, oh Yevon, please no," he whispered hoarsely, cradling her face to his chest. "No… _NO!_" The scream was torn from his throat, choked by the tears that had begun to trickle unheeded down his face.

Pulling her close he rocked back and forth, sobbing, "No, no," over and over again. Time lost all meaning. An eternity past as he sat there, unable to move save to hold her tighter, as he had that day in the spring more than a year ago. But now instead the realization that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together had been replaced by the realization that she was gone… and he was still here. Fiercely his kissed her forehead and ran his fingers down the front of her face, closing those dead eyes forever. He tried to remember what they had been like alive, knew he should be able to, but his thoughts were consumed by dead eyes, dead face, and his own dead heart.

"Auron," Braska's voice rang out, piercing the haze of insanity that threatened to engulf the warrior-monk. "Auron, you must let her go."

"I cannot," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I know what it is like, my friend, but you must allow me to perform the Sending," Braska said, kneeling beside his friend.

"My lord, you cannot send her, you are not a Summoner," Auron said, denying the small part of mind that told him otherwise. Braska could not be a Summoner, Summoner's died and Auron had seen too much death this day. "My lord, you cannot be a Summoner!"

"It is the path I have chosen. Please, Auron, let me do this," not waiting for the younger man's reply, Braska stepped into an area clear of stone and took a step forward then drew a circle around himself with his staff, swinging it around his chest and head in a circle. The motion of his legs was concealed by the thick robes yet the intricate swirl of his staff was sure and true.

Auron felt the cold weight of Leyla's body begin to recede from his grasp as her form became transparent then dispersed into a cloud of pyreflies, leaving the mortal trappings of her black mage's uniform and the necklace he had given her to celebrate the conception of their child on the ground below.

"_NO! LEYLA!!_" Auron screamed into the air, reaching out to grasp a crying pyrefly.

…She awoke, the feeling of his red wool coat comforting against her skin. Glancing to the side she saw her love still asleep, curled between her and the dying fire beside the spring. Silently she began to dress in her own black mage uniform but not before brushing her lips to his and whispering, "I love you," in his ear…

Braska brought his staff to a halt. All around him the pyreflies from those who had lost their lives in the courtyard of St. Bevelle danced around him on their way to their final resting place on the Farplane. Yet as they rose to the sky, Braska fell to his knees, emotionally and physically exhausted.

Auron's arm fell limply to his side as he stared after the pyreflies, Leyla's garments clutched in his arms. For though his heart beat on he knew that this day it had died and no matter how much time past it would never be as alive as it had been the last time he had seen her smile.

"I am sorry, Auron" Braska said, his voice cracked and tired. "But you must understand. I do not wish to see any more death. I do not want another to go through what I did when I lost Rikku. Don't you see? I do not want Yuna to grow up in the shadow of Sin. I want her and all that come after to be free of the fear that any day they could lose everything."

"I understand….my lord," Auron said hoarsely and Braska turned to him in surprise, "I understand now why you did it…and I wish to be your Guardian, if you will have me," he did not look up from the ground. For a moment Braska was too overcome to speak. He simply nodded.

"Nothing would please me more, my friend," Braska said.

Auron stood, still clutching Leyla's garments, the necklace he had given her not six months ago wrapped around his fingers. For a moment they stood there, two men lost in their shared grief and now their shared destiny. They said nothing, for there were now nothing more to say.

"Please, can someone tell me where I can find him?" a desperate voice called and a young acolyte in green emerged from the temple. "He is a warrior-monk, I must know if he has fallen!" Braska turned and saw Belgemine questioning several priests frantically. One by one the shook their heads sorrowfully, each making the sign of prayer and Belgemine ran on. At the sight of him her eyes widened and she dashed forward. Just before she reached them Braska realized that it was Auron that her gaze was locked on.

"Praise be to Yevon, you are alive! Please sir, you must come inside," Belgemine said. Auron turned and at the sight of Leyla's clothing clutched in his hands the acolytes face went completely white and she choked on a sob. Swallow her tears, she grabbed the warrior-monks arm and pulled him back towards the temple. He offered little resistance and did not even bother to pull his arm free. He walked as if in a trance, eyes trained on the ground.

She walked him past the milling nuns and priests in the temple interior and brought him down the right twisting path further in to the temple. In his numbed state Auron did not realize that she was leading him back towards the room where Leyla had gone into labor.

The sound of a baby's shrill sobs broke Auron from his reverie. Pulling free of Belgemine he pushed open the door to the room where he now realized his and Leyla's child lay.

It was in shambles. One of the pillars in the corner that supported the room had cracked and fallen, snapping the bed in two. Dust covered every surface and the floor was covered in shards of glass from the broken window.

Glass was not the only thing that covered the floor.

A small, pathetic form clad in the robes of a novice white mage lay curled up on the floor in a pool of blood. A swift blow to the head from a loosened ceiling block had taken her life before she had known what was happening. Clutched in her stiffening arms was the source of crying.

"Oh, Yevon! Serry!" Belgemine cried and fell to the floor beside her friend, ignoring the blood that soaked through her skirt. Placing a hand on the girl's forehead she released a burst of healing magic into the girl's body, knowing even before she started that it was in vain. Auron bent and took his child from the dead aid's arms and with a feeling like a dagger being slowly shoved through his heart, noted that the baby was a girl and that her eyes were the same deep red as her mother's. The baby continued to scream, as if already aware that she had lost her mother forever.

"Paine," he whispered, his voice hoarse and empty of all feeling, "Her name is Paine."

"Why?!" Belgemine sobbed, rising from her dead friend's side to look at the child in the red-cloaked man's arms. "She is too young to bear such a sorrowful name."

Auron looked at her and back to the child. Why did she cry so? Did she know what he intended to do? Did she not understand that he did it for her? "Because it is all she has ever known," He closed his eyes, unwilling to show any emotion before the girl. Emotion would only cloud what he had to do.

Passing Paine back into Belgemine's arms he turned back towards the door, "She is to be given into the care of her aunt and uncle on Kilika. Their names are Nuada and Balgern. She is to be told that her parents died this day in Bevelle."

"How dare you?" Belgemine cried. "She deserves to have a family!"

"And that is the one thing I cannot give her," Auron replied. He needed to get out of this room before his resolve broke. The greatest gift he could give to Paine now was to defeat Sin at Braska's side. The life he had to offer her was no life at all, not without Leyla. Before Belgemine could protest further he left the room to make with the arrangements with the temple for Paine's adoption and his Guardianship.

* * *

A/N: This is not the end! There are at least four more chapters after this, two of which have already been completed (Unfortunately neither are the chapter immediately following this one) Please leave a review, you have no idea how hard this chapter was to write!

Also, this chapter will be accompanied by an illustration of Auron, Braska and Leyla as soon as I can get my scanner working. As soon as it is up I will post the link at the bottom of each chapter and on my homepage. Otherwise, it is in the fanart section on Elfwood under the name Margaret MacAlpine.

For more information on fics and future updates check out my author page or enter in this link without the spaces.

http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /

Note: The link on my author page is the same as the above.


	9. My Lord

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: See prologue.

A/N: Major angst ahead!

Nog: Nog is a Spiran alcoholic beverage that is served in a manner similar to sake. Auron in FFX carries a jug of it around. I am not making this up, you can read it on the side of the jug in the Spiran alphabet (not that I mind people who call it sake, it works just the same but the fact is that it is _not_ sake).

An Important Note: Somehow I forgot to include this _very_ important note in the last chapter. Auron never told Braska about Paine, so Braska assumed that she was either stillborn or that the destruction of the building killed her and Auron encouraged him in thinking this. Auron knew that if he told him, Braska would (somewhat hypocritically) not allow Auron to be his Guardian in favor of being Paine's father. Like Braska, Auron wanted to protect her by defeating Sin and so gave her to her aunt and uncle on Kilika to raise. He told them to tell her that her parents died in Bevelle.

I apologize for not including this in the text of the story but it completely slipped my mind and I guess I assumed somehow that people would guess. So anyway, with this mind, enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

Braska pulled open the door to the tavern, flooding the street with dim, beer-colored light and harsh laughter from within. Inside the sphere screen blazed, drowning those seated at the bar in watery blue light. The commentary coming from the screen was on the earlier game between the Besaid Aurochs and the Al Bhed Psyches, mostly derisive comments on the crushing defeat of the island team. However, it seemed that even Psyche's stunning victory could not sway deep-seated Yevonite grudges against the machina-using people and occasionally in the midst of praising the Blitz team the commenter would slip in a snide comment about the heathens.

As Braska closed the door behind him he was overcome by the scent of unwashed bodies, stale nog, vomit and other human excrement that the bar owner had not yet bothered to clean. If he ever did. It was all the Summoner-in-training could do to keep from escaping back the way he had come. He compromised by lifting the sleeve of his voluminous robes, the sweet aroma of night air still clinging to the fabric, to his nose and pushed on despite the almost solid wall of stench.

This bar had once had a good reputation as a place where warrior monks and other city officials could go to unwind in a comfortable and reasonably priced setting. The lanterns had once cast a warm golden glow around the entire room and from time to time the barkeeper would hire musicians from Macalania to entertain the patrons. The food, though not as well prepared as some of the more expensive haunts of Bevelle, was the perfect accompaniment to the best nog the city had to offer. Long ago, Wen Kinoc would come here almost every evening after patrol for a few drinks with his squad members. Auron and Leyla had come here when the former was helping her become acquainted with the city.

Yet now the once golden lights were dim and dirty if they were lit at all and the corners of the large common room were completely shrouded in shadow. If the barkeeper had relinquished the small fortune it would require to hire the musicians now there would be no hearing their song over the clamor of the sphere screen and the raucous laughter of the patrons. Food was no longer served. There was no money to be had in it, only in nog which flowed unchecked.

It was no longer a place where one brought a woman, though here and there amongst the crowd you could find them, their tattered tunics hanging loose and low over their breasts in a manner that would have been seductive were they not spotted with bruises and equipped with as dangerous a glint in their eyes as the hired murderers that served occasionally as bouncers.

However, it was still a place where warrior-monks went after completing their patrols.

They had been broken, each and every one of them, their wills crushed and ground into the earth like so much glass beneath the boot heel of Sin. Fighting men all, they had stood helpless as Sin's assault destroyed their homes and massacred their families. Even their victory over the Sinspawn had seemed a paltry thing with which to justify their existence as protectors of Bevelle. They all knew that had it not been for that miraculous barrier, they would all be dead.

Many had sunk so low into their toxin-enhanced depression that the temple had been forced to relieve them of their positions and hire new recruits in their stead. But this had only served to further lower the morale even amongst the recruits. It had taken over a year for the warrior monks to recover their former fighting prowess, and longer still to return to their former glory. New weapons had been investigated, projectiles that would allow the ground troops a higher level of effectiveness should Sin rain terror from the sky again and every squad was assigned two of the invaluable black mages instead of one.

It had now been four years since the attack but still traces of the darkness that had followed could be found everywhere. This bar was the perfect example, despoiled by the warrior-monks who had sought brief solace in the bottle and had never been able to let go, yet had somehow kept their performance or value high enough to be kept on the force.

Braska knew that this place should strengthen his resolve to battle Sin, yet all he could feel was disgust and pity for those who had been lost or abandoned here in the wake of the destruction. The thought of one of those souls in particular inspired the feeling so strongly it twisted his gut in pain.

He winced at the sound of a bottle being smashed over a patron's head and carefully kept his eyes trained at waist-level as he scanned the barstools, not wishing to tip anyone who was looking for a fight over the edge with a direct stare.

Somehow a soft, drunken moan caught his attention in the midst of the overwhelming noise of the common room. Raising his eyes, Braska took in the man he had come looking for and the sight nearly brought tears to his eyes where he thought they had dried up long ago. It took all of his will power to keep from rushing to the man's side but good sense prevailed and he continued at his steady, unobtrusive walk.

Yet the closer Braska came the greater the desire to cry out in dismay and disbelief grew. Could this truly be him? Is this what his year long sojourn away from Bevelle had done to him? Or did the roots go deeper and Braska himself was at fault for not seeing it sooner and aiding this man in his grief?

He was draped over the bar, his arms folded to cushion his head. His hair was longer than Braska remembered, its ebony lengths reaching past his shoulder blades, and had taken on an oily shine from lack of washing. Free of its usual binding, it fanned out over the bar, obscuring most of his face. The tips lay unnoticed in a puddle of spilled nog from the jug beside him.

"Auron," Braska said, shaking the man's shoulder to wake him. The warrior monk grumbled and buried his face further into the crook of his elbow, then stiffened at the realization of who had called his name.

The younger man raised his eyes slowly to the Summoner he had sworn to guard. A weeks worth of beard shadowed the lower half of his face and his eyes were bloodshot as if he had been crying. The din around them seemed to hush as their eyes met.

"Auron," Braska said, his voice gentle but fierce, "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Braska?" Auron said groggily but there was a touch of fear there that surprised Braska and hurt him.

"Why didn't you wait for me to finish my Summoner's training?!" At first Auron did not answer and Braska wondered just how drunk he was. Then Auron shook his head, leaning away from Braska's grasp. The alcohol stuck his hair together in clumps and the excess ran down the back of his breastplate and disappeared into his coat.

"Get out of here, Braska. This is no place for you. Go home to your daughter, take care of her," he slurred the words but it did not sound as if his ind was overfogged by the drink.

"Yuna will be fine, Auron, it is you now that I am concerned for," Braska realized that this was not the place to force a confrontation. Flagging down the barkeeper he requested a room, just for the evening. The man glared evilly but something in Braska's pristine manner perhaps reminded him of better days, when Summoners and priests were frequently recommended his tavern for its fine food and lodging. His face softened somewhat, or at least lost its feral edge and grumbling he reached down and pulled off a plain looking key from the cluster that jingled at his hip.

"Be out in a few hours. I've got a business to run here," he said gruffly. Braska nodded his thanks and led an unresisting Auron, who only paused to take the jug from the bar, through the crowded common room, ignoring the coarse suggestions and taunts that were tossed their way and down a dark hallway where the tavern's half a dozen rooms lay. Though he tried to block it out, the grunts and squeals of sex could be heard from both sides of the hall and the reason for the barkeeper's parting comment became abundantly clear. Yet the room itself were blessedly quiet. Taking a seat in a rickety chair he gestured for Auron to take his ease on the bed.

Auron sat down, his body slumped as if it took all of his will and muscle power to stay erect, meanwhile doing his best to avoid Braska's piercing ocean blue gaze. "You still have not answered my question. Why didn't you wait for me to finish my Summoner's training though you swore to be my Guardian once I had completed it?"

Auron remained obstinately silent until he realized that this method would not make Braska go away,"I couldn't stand it here anymore," he finally mumbled, shame coloring his voice more than the afteraffects of the nog. Braska sat back in his chair, knowing that there was more and he simply had to wait it out. "Raigar, my commander's brother, was leaving on his pilgrimage. He chose me to be his Guardian, said that he would only have the greatest warrior monk. I felt I owed it to Ralleth," he shrugged uncomfortably, "So I left," still Braska did not move.

"It was…an unpleasant pilgrimage," the apprentice Summoner saw the corners of his eyes tighten in pain and knew that that was an understatement. "The respect inherent in a Summoner status went to his head. He wouldn't listen to advice or accept any jurisdiction above his own. He treated me as a servant rather than a Guardian. Because of him we were landed in several dangerous situations where, had it not been for my training and the Aeons, we would have died," Braska knew that by now the old Auron would have been seething with rage yet the curious dead tone of just voice never wavered, as if all the emotion had been drained out of him by the nog. "The pilgrimage ended in the Calm Lands, as I suspected it would. On the open plains there was no one except for the Al Bhed at their travel agency and he refused to consort with them. There was no one to revere him, no one to tell him what a great thing he was doing. And I think the knowledge that beyond the mountains lay his death finally shook him as it had not the entire time. One day I awoke and he was gone, leaving only his staff to indicate that he had given up. I did not search for him."

Braska realized that even with the lengthy explanation Auron had still effectively dodged the question. The silence told him far more than the account of the pilgrimage. "Was it because of her?" The death of both his wife and child was surely what had driven the man away.

Auron's fist clenched, nails scraping the woolen comforter. "Yes."

"Auron, it was not your fault! You cannot continue to punish yourself so!" Braska said firmly.

"Yes, it is!" Auron cried, showing the first flash of emotion Braska had seen all night. "I should never have left her side! I should have been there for her, protected her, loved her! I chose duty over her and she suffered for it!" he made a choked sound in the back of his throat and Braska realized with a start that Auron was weeping. He moved his chair closer and placed a comforting hand on Auron's shoulder.

"Again I tell you, my friend; it is not your fault. You could have done nothing to save Leyla unless gifted with Yevon's foresight."

"Yes," Auron whispered hoarsely, "Her I failed as well," Braska wondered if he had heard right but let it slide nonetheless, "I have failed everyone I have ever loved. I am not worthy of you, Braska. Only a bastard like Raigar deserves a Guardian like me."

"What nonsense are you speaking? My views have not changed in the last four years, Auron, I will have you as my Guardian and no other," Braska frowned, placing both hands on Auron's shoulders.

"Nonsense, Braska? It is you who speaks nonsense," Auron said, roughly shoving one of the man's hands off his shoulder. "Look at me! I have become everything that I despise! A failure, a drunk, a _coward_, who could not even protect the most precious thing that life has ever given him! I am not better than those animals in the common room! Now I ask you, leave me be! Go on to defeat Sin if you will, I'm sure Yuna will understand why you abandoned her, she is old enough now. Find another Guardian; do not trouble yourself with me any longer! I-I am a dead man," Auron shoved away the other hand and turned away, hoping for and fearing the inevitable sound of the door opening and closing behind Braska.

"Perhaps that is true," Auron winced at the perceived disappointment in Braska's tone. Somehow it hurt more hearing it from Braska than from his own tortured thoughts. "A drunk, a failure at protecting what he could not possibily have saved…" Auron felt surprisingly strong steady hands pull him back around, "But I trust you and no other with my life, Auron. And I have faith in you. I know that you have within in you the strength to help me to the very end," Auron's face went from anger to shock to sorrow, finally settling on something very much akin to reverence. "Now I ask you again, will you serve as my Guardian when I leave in two years time. This time will you wait?"  
  
Auron hesitated but only for a moment, the grasped Braska's forgiveness like a drowning man clutches a lifeline,"Yes, my lord," Braska felt a twisting in his gut at the worshipful tone of Auron's voice. Whether he liked it or not, the price of saving this man was their friendship, once loose and filled with camaraderie, to be filled with the overwhelming respect that one feels for a beloved lord. Braska mourned its loss but knew that things would never have been the same again and so saw it as a small price for this man's life.

They stood and Auron reached out to grab the empty nog jug that had sat beside him on the bed.

"You will no longer need that, I should hope," Braska said.

Auron took it anyway, "I will keep it. As a reminder and…" Braska cocked an eyebrow, "I have come to enjoy the taste somewhat." 

"As you wish, my friend," Braska smiled. The road was still long, stretching out before them filled with trials and troubles that would only grow as they came closer to him. And at the end of that long road lay the prize and the punishment that for now did not bear thinking of. Yet despite all this he was comforted by the knowledge that no matter how long it may be, the road would not be walked alone.

* * *

A/N: Whew! Things were getting a little intense there, I was really afraid of inadvertently making BoP a slash! Well, actually that's unlikely since I've never written that genre before. Still, from time to time I couldn't shake the image of them throwing themselves into each others arms! 

For in-depth info on upcoming updates and stories go to the homepage link on my profile or delete the spaces from:

http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /

Please review. It is a proven fact that lack of reviews on a chapter I consider particularly good slows my work to a halt. In the past it has even caused me to abaondon a fic completely. If you liked it, review, if you didn't like it, review anyway. Long reviews are vastly appreciated but short ones, as long as they're there, will suffice.


	10. Child Eyes

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: see prologue.

A/N: Hurray! Onto Braska's Pilgrimage! I'm so excited, I love writing Braska, Jecht, and Auron (especially Jecht who I will be RPing soon). I'm also extremely happy to be on solid ground since young Auron is a little more defined than the even younger Auron that I was writing before. So without further ado, onto the chapter!

* * *

Two pairs of booted feet and one bare stepped shakily onto the board walk of Kilika Port while the burning sun beat down on their heads. The air was hot and heavy, made all the more so by the humidity that radiated from the surrounding jungle, carried by a sweltering breeze that brought with it the sickly-sweet reek of overripe vegetation. The only relief from the heat and the smell was the occasional light breeze from the sea, rare even though they stood right above it. 

"Ah, finally a place with a decent climate!" Jecht taunted, stretching his arms over his head and thrusting his chest, emblazoned with the symbol of the Zanarkand Abes, forward. Auron and Braska continued past him, obviously looking forward to returning to the shade. Braska's mask of serenity had cracked slightly under the oppressive temperature, and his scaled Summoner's robes did not help matters. A thin stream of sweat trickled down his brow, disappearing into his thick collar. Auron was doing little better and despite having fewer layers than his Summoner and was sweating harder. He had already removed the unfastened sleeve of his red wool coat and seemed to be seriously considering removing the other, and appearences be damned. Only Jecht, who went around half-clothed and bare-foot on a regular basis, something he shared with the denizens of Kilika Port, seemed able to take the extreme temperature.

"It's like this every day in Zanarkand," Jecht exclaimed, causing more than a few heads to turn. Some people even did the prayer to Yevon, as if to ward off the blasphemer in their midst. "Not so damned muggy but you'd have to be crazy to walk around in robes like yours, Braska."

"Appearances must be maintained, Jecht," Braska said, his tone lacking its usual steady power. "But...perhaps if we are delayed here longer than I expect I will look into purchasing more appropriate clothing."

They were more than halfway through the pilgrimage now, with only the nearby temple in Besaid to visit once the Aeon of Fire was obtained. Then it was back the way they had come, first to Luca then over the Mi'hen Highroad and beyond, bypassing Bevelle and the temple of Macalania to the Calms Lands. Jecht had pointed out more than once at the beginning of their journey that it would have been much easier to start in Besaid or Kilika and work their way back. Learning of Braska's fate at its end had silenced that complaint.

Many things had changed since they had rescued the man from Zanarkand from his prison in Bevelle. At first Auron and Jecht had hardly been able to be in the same room with each other but after several mishaps and false starts a certain camaraderie had developed between the stoic warrior-monk and the star of the Zanarkand Abes. By the time they had reached Luca, Braska was rarely needed as a peacekeeper and could leave the room without expecting them to be at each other's throats when he came back. He had the feeling that though both men were too stubborn to admit it, they now considered each other friends. Some of their influence had even rubbed off on each other for the better. Jecht had sobered up while Auron had loosened up, something that Braska had not seen for nearly six years.

Both effects were a point of pride for either man, Auron felt at least partially responsible for shaming Jecht into sobriety and Jecht believing that his easy-going nature had rubbed off on the stoic younger man. Yet even after these changes had taken place the going was still rough. Not long after the incident with the Shoopuff, Auron had caught Jecht on his way to the common room to 'wet his throat'. Incensed by how quickly Jecht had gone back on his word he had chastised and publicly humiliated the older Blitzball player in the middle of the common room. Braska winced at the memory.

* * *

"_I always knew you were a good-for-nothing drunk but I thought _this_ time your respect for Lord Braska would keep you out of the bottle for at least a week," Auron had said scathingly. This episode had pushed him to his limits. He had made some allowances before, when Jecht was still recovering from his transportation to Spira but the warrior monk had thought that once Jecht had seen that his actions had dire consequences outside his personal sphere that the Blitzer might be on the path to becoming a respectable Guardian._

_And n__ow this._

"_Not now, Auron, I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures," Jecht said tiredly, pushing past the younger man. For a moment Auron was taken aback by the simple...exhaustion in the man's voice but he knew if he relented now Lord Braska was doomed to have one Guardian and one piece of drunken luggage weighing him down all the way to Zanarkand._

"_Oh no you don't. I'm not going to allow Lord Braska or the pilgrimage to suffer because you're feeling sorry for yourself. Last time it was the Shoopuff, what what's it going to be? Is the cost of the entire bar to be added to the tally?" Auron spat. A small crowd had gathered to watch the exchange while others had backed away, not wanting to be caught in what looked like an inevitable brawl. Jecht shifted uncomfortably under their stares._

"_I'm warning you, Auron," Jecht growled, his maroon eyes gleaming a disconcerting shade of red in the dim light._

"_What do I have to fear from a drunken sot with no sense of responsibility?" Auron retorted, knowing that he had crossed a line but not particularly caring._

"_That's _it_!" Jecht roared and suddenly Auron was lifted off the ground by his breastplate and slammed into the wall. The room spun but Jecht's words pierced him with crystalline clarity. "You think you know it all, don't ya? You little snot-nosed punk sitting all high-and-mighty on your make-believe teachings and ethics! Where are your scars, huh? What have you lost?! You're barely a man and you think can lecture me on how to live my life?" Auron was released from the wall only to be slammed against it so hard stars danced before his vision. Yet still Jecht bellowed on, gaining momentum with each enraged word. "What do you know?! You've never had a wife or a kid; you don't know what its like to lose them, to know you are _**never**_ going to see them again! The biggest responsibility you've ever had is a baby-sitting a grown man till he reaches his _death_. Don't you dare lecture me on responsibility, _boy_," he snarled. The room had gone absolutely still._

"_Auron, Jecht, that's enough," Braska's calm clipped voice had said, and the tense atmosphere was grudgingly diffused. Jecht's grip loosened and Auron's boots hit the floor with a loud thump. But the look on the younger Guardian's face showed that he would not leave without the final word._

"_Do not presume to know me, Jecht. I too have known the loss of a wife and child more completely than you will ever understand," his voice as calm and cold as ice and with that he pulled up the dangling sleeve of his coat and left the room._

"_We will speak of this later," was all Braska had said._

* * *

"My lord, is something wrong?" Auron's concerned inquiry pierced Braska's reverie. 

Braska shook his head, "It is nothing. Come, let's see if there is a room available."

There was, but only one. Though the rank of a Summoner on pilgrimage carried much weight in Spira it did not have the power to conjure an extra room out of thin air and Braska refused to allow the innkeeper to turn out any of his patrons.

"It would be unforgivably rude to force out a paying customer for comforts sake, especially since we have little to offer in recompense," Braska had explained to the two Guardians as they made their way down the hallway. However, Braska's generosity meant that he and Auron would be forced to share a bed and bring a cot for Jecht. At first Jecht had protested his banishment from the larger bed but a word from Auron ("You thrash.") had silenced his complaint.

Once they had deposited their belongings in the room, including Auron's crimson coat which was simply too hot for him to fight in effectively, they had exited the building and made their way through labyrinthine docks of Kilika Port until they stood at the gates to the woods.

"The fiends around here are not as difficult as those that we encountered in Macalania or on the Highroad but beware the poison," Auron warned, turning back to Braska and Jecht. Unfortunately for Braska a certain level of decorum was required of Summoners and Braska had only been able to remove one layer from beneath the petal-like folds of his robes to accommodate the muggy heat.

The air with in the jungle was so thick it was like breathing water and had it not been for Auron's familiarity with the place from his previous pilgrimage they may have been lost for hours. The central path, which looked like the most obvious trail towards the temple, led precisely nowhere and it was in fact the second path on the right that was the swiftest.

Auron had been right to warn them. While the dionixes and even the elementals were easily dispatched, Jecht would have succumbed to the poison of a killer bee had it not been for Braska's white magic. After that they had made their way more carefully, avoiding any unexpected encounters with fiends until they reached the temple steps.

"It is said that the Summoner Ohalland, when he was still a Blitzball player, used to train on these steps," Braska remarked. Auron nodded, familiar with that as well as many other facts about the Summoner from 500 years past. Being married to a descendant of the man's Guardian would do that.

"Seriously?" Jecht asked. "Give me a break; there can't be enough stairs for a _real_ workout."

By the end of the trek it was all Auron could do to keep from saying "I told you so." But in truth he had said nothing and by the look on Jecht's face, he already knew.

As great a relief as it was to finally reach the temple it was dampened by the billowing heat that emanated from the torches and underground fire pit that stood before its gates. The natives didn't seem to notice but a fresh stream of sweat dampened Auron's face as the combined sunlight, lack of shade, and intensely hot fires made the atmosphere even more unbearable than the humid jungle or the sun-baked docks. At least _there_ there had been a breeze and shade. Even Jecht was beginning to look uncomfortable despite his earlier boasting, and compared to Braska he was practically naked!

"Quit foolin' around!" Jecht raucous voice broke in. "It's got to be cooler inside the temple, those priests wear almost as much as Braska!" Braska smiled slightly at this comment and the trio moved towards the stairway down to the door when something caught Auron's eye. The temple courtyard was filled with playing children, left here while their parents prayed or worked in the temple. A half dozen of them were dodging in and out of the torches, their high pitch laughter musical in its innocence.

"Auron, are you coming?" Braska voice rang out, snapping the warrior-monk back to attention.

Auron was torn. As Braska's Guardian it was his duty to accompany his Summoner into the Cloister of Trials. But Braska already had another Guardian who, though inept at first, had come a long way from the drunken lunatic in the Bevelle prison. And Auron thought he had seen...

There it was again! A flash of silver disappearing into a clump of nut-brown island children.

"My lord would you grant me permission to pray at the temple while you address the Fayth?" Auron winced slightly at his own words. Requesting permission to leave his Summoner....

But he had to know.

Several emotions passed over Braska's face. Confusion at first, then shock followed by...understanding? The Summoner smiled sadly and nodded then followed Jecht into the shadows of the temple.

_He thinks I wish to pray at Leyla's home temple,_ Auron realized with a flash of guilt but no more than a dull throb of pain at the thought of her. _After all, it's been six years. The pain has faded somewhat._

Walking silently in the direction of the children playing tag he leaned into the shade of one of the temple pillars and studied the group, his chestnut eyes flickering from head to head. There were children with hair black as coal and those with bright red hair that lightened to strawberry-blond at the tips but not a glimmer of silver. Had he just imagined it?

No. His heart nearly stopped as he caught sight of a flash of quicksilver as it darted between two of the children like a fish, silent and unnoticed. Though it was just a game this child was taking it very seriously, hardly making a sound as she eluded the capture of the older boy who was 'it'. Only her white shirt and red skirt leant her any similarity to the sun-dark natives. Besides the similar attire, she looked like a ghost lost amongst the living.

But she didn't feel like one. In her pride at having slipped through the tagger's fingers she had taken a moment to glance over her shoulder to see who had been caught in her stead and collided with a wall. At least it felt like a wall but walls didn't grunt in surprise when they came in contact with six-year-olds running at full speed.

Auron glanced down in surprise at the little girl he had been watching only a second ago who was now flat on her butt. She glared up at him angrily, rubbing her hind end as if it was his fault that she was now in a somewhat embarrassing position on the ground and that he had deliberately moved to block her way (never mind that she would have had a much more painful impact with the pillar had he not been there).

That glare caught Auron's breath in his throat and for a moment he, warrior-monk of Yevon and Guardian to Summoner Braska, who had faced down hundreds of fiends and traveled the length and breadth of Spira, wanted nothing more than to run away from that tiny, crimson-eyed child. His child.

He took hold of himself. _I could leave now. I have seen her, I know that she is happy and well. There is no need to inquire further,_ but nonetheless... _Fool! What have you to offer her? You may die tomorrow, or the day after. You may never reach Zanarkand let alone return. She thinks that you are dead, how dare you think to disillusion her now when the reality may be close at hand?!_

His mind was almost made up when another thought occurred.

_What if you don't? What if you live, survive Zanarkand as a herald to a new Calm? Braska requested that you look after Yuna once he has gone. What if...?_

The thought bubbled inside of him, unexpected yet surprisingly hopeful. He shunted it aside, _First things first_.

The girl, upon seeing that she would elicit no apology from the source of her annoyance pushed herself to her feet and stuck out her tongue, fully intending to return to her game.

"Wait, Paine," he whispered then a little louder, "Paine."

Paine stopped and glanced at him over her right shoulder, giving him his first chance to really look at her close up. At six, her body was as sexless as any other child but her form was slightly smaller, hinting at lithe grace that would come with age. Her skin was pale yet against all probability was not sunburned in the least. It almost seemed as if she reflected light rather than took it in. Her hair was a few shades blacker than Leyla's, steel gray rather than deep silver and was cut pixie-style, shorn just below the ears with bangs curling over her forehead. There was very little of himself in her but that did not mean there wouldn't be once she reached maturity. At the moment from her ivory skin to her eyes the color of heart's blood she was her mother's child.

"What?" she said, her voice a surprisingly throaty alto for a child. She showed no fear though whether it was because she was hiding it or she felt secure surrounded by her friends and the temple clergy, Auron could not be sure. This surprised and impressed him nonetheless. It would not have been the first time his stern visage had frightened children away from him

"I've been looking for you," he said and immediately realized the error he might have made. Yet still she showed no sign of fear but the shift of her body showed she was on the defensive.

"Why?" Paine asked. "Who are you?" For some reason, that hurt. It was true that she had not been in his presence since they day of her birth but it was a blow to see the very image of what Leyla would have looked like at this age gazing at him with unfamiliarity.

"I am Lord Braska's Guardian," he said, feeling that that explanation was vague enough yet unsure of what more he dared give away. How much had Nuada and Balgern told her? Would she recognize his name?

In the end it didn't matter for she took the explanation with a nod. "What do you want with me?"

"I-," he had to think fast, "I have something for you," he said on a sudden stroke of inspiration and began fumbling through the pocket of his baggy gray pants. Paine backed away warily and glanced back at her friends. Some of them had stopped to stare at her exchange with the strange man but had returned to the game rather than risk being caught by the tagger.

Auron finally found what he had been looking for despite his shaking hand which he bent all his will power on stilling. Wrapped around his fingers was a slim silver chain from which hung a pendant like an upside-down heart with petals emerging from the bottom. It glimmered as it spun, casting shards of light onto the ground.

"It belonged to your mother, I thought you should have it," Auron said, reclaiming a bit of his gruff composure.

"My mommy's in the temple right now praying for the Summer-ner," Paine said. "Why wouldn't _she_ give it to me?"

"But your mother..." Auron said. How? Leyla had died the day Paine was born, unless... "Nuada?"

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to call her that," Paine said, rubbing her bare toe into the stone.

_How dare they?!_ He thought, suddenly enraged. He had told them to tell Paine her parents had died in the attack on Bevelle. It was not much to ask, many children in Spira were raised by close relatives. But for some reason Leyla's elder sister had decided to take Paine in as her own and not tell the girl of her true parentage. _Perhaps it is for the better,_ he admitted grudgingly to himself, _or else I would not be able to speak with her. It would be cruel to tell her now that her true parents were dead and it would be a lie. No, better to give her the necklace and return to the pilgrimage. The future can wait until the path is clear._

In fact, he should have known that this may happen. Nuada and Balgern had had no children of their own and why tell Paine that the parents that raised her were not her own? Nuada and Balgern would have had no reason to tell her they were not her natural parents. From what he remembered of Leyla's older sister her features were not so different as to make the lie improbable. Her eyes were a deep rich brown much like his own and her skin was as fair as Leyla's, if somewhat rosier. Even her hair lent some credibility, a black so deep it was almost blue. Balgern, a Kilikan to his toes, was another matter with his cherry-red hair and dark, sun-tanned skin.

"I must have been mistaken," he said, his voice empty of his true emotions, "But I ask you to take it anyway. Show it to your...mother if you wish, she will understand."

"Alright," she said and turned her back so he could clasp it around her neck.

"You trust me?" Auron asked, somewhat surprised.

Paine nodded. "My mommy said that Summer-ners and their Guardians are good people who protect the world from Sin and that I shouldn't be afraid of them," Auron accepted this answer and closed the delicate clasp behind her neck. The pendant lay on her white cotton shirt right above her heart. "Thanks," she said then looked back not-so-subtly at her laughing companions. If she hurried she could make the next game.

Auron nodded and she dashed off, waving at him as she left. He was not sure if she would remember this encounter but it seemed right that though she would never know Leyla she would always have something of her mother's close to her heart.

Satisfied, Auron entered the cool shade of the temple and knelt before the statue of Summoner Ohalland to pray until Braska and Jecht returned.

* * *

Later that day Nuada had emerged from the temple to find Paine playing a game of hide-and-go-seek with the other children outside the temple. At the sight of her, Paine had bounded silently out of her hiding place and neatly evaded the hand of the seeker before skipping to her side. Nuada scooped her up in a hug, asking her how her day had been. Usually Paine would jabber about the games she had played or the tricks that had been played on her. But today as she walked hand and hand with her mother down the hundreds of stone steps that led to the forest she told Nuada about the nice Guardian who had talked to her outside the temple. Nuada remembered seeing someone who matched Paine's description but his face had been obscured as he prayed before the statue of Summoner Ohalland and she had simply assumed that he was a blitzer from his muscular physique. Easily distracted, Paine went off on another tangent when her mother did not immediately respond, talking about all the times she had _almost_ been caught. They came to the edge of the forest and Nuada slipped on the charm bracelet that protected them from fiends and the journey was considerably shortened by the lack of fiends. It was not long they had stepped off the stone path that led through the woods and on to the boardwalk. From there it was only a short walk to the house. 

That night as Paine was putting on her pajamas in preparation for bed she remembered the necklace that the nice Guardian had given her, tucked beneath her shirt. Running into the kitchen she showed it to her mommy, exclaiming that the nice man had returned her mother's necklace to her.

"Hmm? Oh, that's not mine, sweety," Nuada had said as she placed the last of the dishes out to dry.

"But the man said it belonged to my mother and..." Paine protested. Nuada gently took the pendant from her hands a inspected it more closely.

"My sister Leyla had a necklace like this, but she died not long after you were born. You may keep it, if you want," Nuada had said and returned the necklace to Paine. She fervently hoped that her nonchalant tone would keep the six year old from inquiring further. One day they would tell her, but not now.

Paine nodded and thanked her mother, carrying the pendant back into her bedroom. As she sat in bed trying to fall asleep she thought about what the nice man had said about the necklace he had given her.

She thought about what her mommy had said about the necklace not belonging to her.

She thought about how the Guardian had seemed surprised when he found out her mother was named Nuada.

She thought about her aunt, who had died right after she was born.

Paine was not a stupid child. She knew that there had been no confusion in the man's voice when he gave her the necklace. She knew that unlike all the other children she didn't look anything like her mommy and daddy.

As the realization dawned on her Paine began to cry, slumping into her pillow and burrying her face so that her mommy and daddy, who were not really her mommy and daddy, would not hear.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter is not yet written but the one after that is Nonetheless, please review to tell me what you liked or disliked. 


	11. Blood, Sweat, and Tears part 1

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: see Prologue.

A/N: Again, sorry for the wait. Real life has been a bit of a priority lately. Originally this chapter was just supposed to be a filler, a transition, but in the end I really wanted to do a good representation of Auron's death. However the length and the wait were getting a bit ridiculous so I cut the chapter into two parts to tied you over. The following poem is by Robert Frost and I thought it went quite nicely with the chapter. Special thanks to Silvie-chan for beta-ing!

* * *

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep. 

-Excerpt from Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost.

* * *

The winter wind moaned its despair over the heights of sacred Mount Gagazet, cutting through the thick blue fur of the Ronso asleep on their beds within their toasty caverns. The sounds of it hollowed the heart of those who heard it, making them shudder from the feeling of loneliness that swept through them, emptying them and engulfing them with the realization of how tiny they were in the midst of the immense splendor of the mountain and the wind that had shaped it for time out of mine. 

The wind, the sky and the shadows were all the same shade of navy so deep it was nearly black, the snow glimmering under the marble white moon only a shade lighter. Standing alone on those peaks one would feel like a single star lost in the vastness of space, surrounded by the bitter cold of perpetual snow that cut the heart as surly as the skin and freezes the moisture of tears to one's face. There are no words to describe this feeling; it can only be experienced on a night such as this, so desperately alone amidst the new-fallen snow.

Against the luminous blanket lay a smudge like an old bloodstain, a man sprawled on his stomach, one side of his face hidden by a cavity in the snow. He coughed, a ragged hoarse sound and pushed himself up on to his elbows and looked around, one side of his face stiff from the frozen blood that caked it. It is a blessing, the crimson ice like a cracked shell that protected the ruin of his face. He tried to ignore the sensation chips of ice resting too far inside his damaged eye socket. He wanted to cry, alone on the mountain, to lie down in the snow that is beginning to feel like a warm blanket and fall asleep with the tears still staining his face. He wishes, as he has not wished since he was a child; that his mother would come and take the pain away, wrap him in warm blankets and carry him to a place that is without pain or snow. But his tears have been used up and his eyes stung with the dry bitter cold. Like a waking nightmare on endless loop he can seem them, writhing in pain that he can only imagine now in this state as his life seeps out of him with the blood of his wound. Their pain drives him on, their cries as they lay dying even as he is now, the promises they had begged of him with the knowledge that soon that pain would render them incapable of speaking.

His own pain was negligible and unwanted compared to theirs, it only slows him down. His pain only asks him to lie down and give in, only whispers seductively about warmth and safety and protection from this biting wind that hollows out his insides and the soft snow that numbs the agony of his disfigurement with more pain.

Only his agony and his Paine would keep him from fulfilling his promises.

Reaching forward with his bare hand he grabs a clump of snow and pulls himself another foot forward down the slope, his belly scraping through the snow. Behind him, reaching all the way up to the Trials is a slug-like trail, splattered with pink blood. Occasionally the tracks would show where he had stumbled to his feet, placing one foot slowly in front of the other in a feeble attempt to gain distance before collapsing back down to the snow, tears of frustration springing up in his good eye.

Every muscle screamed in agony as he reached forward with the other hand, grasping a clump of snow further down the path and dragging himself another foot. So great a distance yet so little. The climb had begun the night before, he had watched the sun set and rise and set again yet he could not sleep, he could not allow his remaining eye to shut, to give in to the mirage of snuggling inside warm blankets that tried to overcome his senses. Another reach, another foot, searing pain lancing through his body as if he were being impaled by the icicles that had hung like slavering jaws from above.

He felt more than saw the bandersnatch that prowled in lazy circles like a vulture around him, ropes of saliva dangling from its yellow fangs. There were more fiends hidden in the shadows he was sure but none dared come any closer. The lupine monster was bolder than any of the others so far, undoubtedly newly dead for it did not know the way of things on Gagazet. The older dead knew the scent that clung to him; they knew _her_ scent, the oldest of them all. It was the one blessing she had bestowed upon him, an ironic convenience that left a bitter taste in his mouth. There would be no quick death in a fiend's jaws, no crumpled red form like a bloodstain on the snow, steam radiating out of his wounds even as his flesh dissolved and reformed itself into some grotesque monstrosity. A small blessing, for surely his end was near; but one that would allow him to reach the base of the mountain.

An hour, a moonset, an eternity later he curled up on his side at the base of the path where Braska had left his sphere should Yuna ever walk the same path. For a wild moment Auron wanted to crawl up that short steep slope, lie next to the sapphire sphere and watch Braska talking, just talking, as he slipped into unconsciousness then death. The thought became more appealing by the second as he lay there, curled into the fetal position on the snow, his breath coming out in heavy gasps that stung his throat. He could feel himself unraveling, flesh separating from spirit and wondered if it was not his due to spend his final moments in peace, listening to his best friend warm, steady voice advising the daughter he had loved and left on her future.

Yet his own failing body betrayed him. As he reached out to begin the climb, so short compared to his long trek down the mountain his body shuddered and refused to move, unable to take anymore pain and bereft of energy even if he could summon the will. A sob choked him and he buried his face into the thin layer of jagged frost that lay over the snow as his cries of pain and exhaustion sapped him of his will.

_I cannot die here;_ he thought for he could not speak,_ I must fulfill...my oath. For Jecht and Braska, for Yuna and Tidus. This is nothing, I can overcome it._

With a grunt of pain he willed his hand to move, closing his eyes in order to focus his will on that one tiny movement, trying to convince himself that that was all it was. But his body was not as easily fooled as his mind and no progress was made. He could feel his other eye closing as his burning tears froze to his eyelashes, gluing them shut for what he knew was the last time.

"'m sorry..." he whispered before consciousness left him in a puff of steam that grew and dispersed as it rose to the sky.

* * *

"Wake up," the deepest voice he had ever heard rumbled, lifting him from his unwanted doze. He felt something poke his side then before he could even gasp in pain he was on his back, gazing through frosted eyelashes into the dim pink light of dawn. He tried to cough to relieve the tightness in his throat but all that came out was a mix between a whimper and a sob. "You're alive," he heard a tinge of surprise in that deep bass voice, "Don't move." Auron's world shifted and his breath caught in his throat just short of a scream as he felt himself lifted from the ground, causing the slash that stretched to his collarbone to flap open. The Ronso, for now he could see that it was one of the cat people from the blur of blue and white that took up most of his vision, stopped and made a small sound of vexation like a grunt. The arm that supported his legs was slowly removed and they thudded to the ground. 

"Drink this," the Ronso commanded. Auron tried to close his frozen lips around the vial that was placed between his teeth but all it did was shoot a fresh twinge of agony through the wound on his face. The sweet clear taste of some sort of potion washed over his taste buds, but there was no accompanying rush of energy, no zinging sensation as the healing process was jumpstarted. He may as well have been drinking flavored water.

"No'ting," his voice cracked. His vision was steadily becoming clearer and he could see the slight baring of the teeth that served as a frown amongst the Ronso. "Please... must go to...Bevelle."

The Ronso shook his head. "You must rest. Kimahri will bring you to his den." The Ronso began to walk down the slope, his long stride easily devouring the snow covered ground. For a moment the Guardian did not complain, the relief that coursed through him at being brought so much closer to his goal was too overwhelming. But as he flickered in and out of consciousness, occasionally jostled awake with a growl from Kimahri, he felt a sense of urgency overcome him.

No amount of rest would heal his wounds. Every heartbeat brought him closer to his last. He felt almost detached, watching the last grains of sand in the hourglass of his life fall away. And there were so few left...

These thoughts haunted him as the morning sun darkened before his eyes. _No! I cannot...Lord Braska needs me..._He began to thrash helplessly as if to push away the specter of his own death. Pain, fresh and sharp as a razor honed to a hair's breadth sliced through his side, every bit as painful as the first time her nails, enhanced by unholy power, left him to fend for himself at death's door. He gasped and went limp, panting hoarsely. It was then he saw that it was not death's shadow but the roof of a cave that blotted out the sun. A cave that grew warmer as he was carried further into its heart.

He felt himself being carefully placed onto something soft that tickled at the back of his neck and face. Warm furs enshrouded him and through his cracked eyelids he could see a fire, its smoke released into a shaft that ran upwards into darkness, crackling blithely in the middle of an exotically decorated room. A far cry from the opulence of Bevelle or the Spartan quarters of the warrior monks, the Ronso's dwelling was comforting yet foreign at the same time, decorated and furnished with furs. Auron realized he was lying on a stack of them that served as a bed and found it just as comfortable, if not more than the one in his old quarters so long ago. Spears and halberds lined the far walls of the large circular chamber and close by he could hear the crystalline tinkle of water as it melted into a tiny pool.

His eye still shut, he felt the Ronso unbuckle his thick belt, thus freeing his bloodstained crimson coat. He cracked open his good eye and saw Kimahri examining his wounds, then without a sound the Ronso padded over to a cubby near the entrance of the cave and removed a small vial along with a roll of gauze bandages then went over to the small spring in the corner of the cave to fill a bucket. These items in hand he knelt beside Auron and began to carefully remove his breastplate, his hands surprisingly gentle for all their strength. The sting of the cool water was nothing compared to the pain he had endured over the last few days and so he remained silent as the Ronso washed his wounds then dabbed them with the fragrant salve. Placing his large furry paw behind Auron's back he gently propped him up and began to wrap the long white bandages around his right side of his face and his shoulder.

"Please," Auron whispered as Kimahri tied off the last bandage. His voice was dry and scratched, barely audible even to his own ears "Please, I must go to Bevelle," He could feel his strength returning slightly with the warmth and the comforting pressure of the bandages. "I swore to my friend that I would watch over his daughter. I...must get her to safety before my time ends."

"Potions not work. Rest, recover strength," Kimahri said, obviously unwilling to allow the man he had found half-dead on the mountain to finish the process.

"I cannot! I am cursed, I...I have little time left," Auron said, "I must complete my duty."

Kimahri laid aside the extra bandages and regarded him solemnly. Auron tried holding that golden gaze but he felt the room spinning around him and the little energy that had been restored by the warmth was being taxed by his insistence on leaving. After what seemed an eternity to Auron's fevered mind, the Ronso nodded. "We go." 

The Ronso helped Auron stumble to his feet and carefully replaced his breastplate and coat. For a moment the black-haired young man swayed as the spinning became almost unbearable. What was that crying sound, those flashes of color just out of the corner of his vision? No. He swallowed. Just a little farther. Can't rest yet...

Leaning heavily on Kimahri's arm, the two warriors exited the cavern and into the white light of morning. As Auron's vision and mind cleared he noticed for the first time that his savior's horn, a symbol of status amongst the male Ronso, was broken half way down. In addition, the location of Kimahri's den, on the fringe of the settlement and closer to the base of the mountain than any other, indicated that he was currently in very low standing. Yet the furnishing within the Ronso's den was too rich for the low status to have been a lifelong stigma, perhaps coinciding with his height. It could only mean that Kimahri, like Auron, had fallen far and fast, perhaps only a short while ago.

However, it seemed the mystery would remain unsolved, not in the least because of Kimahri's aura of unmovable silence. The subject was likely a delicate matter and Auron knew instinctively that he was not in a position to ask after it.

"Bevelle is close but chocobo is fastest," Kimahri rumbled as they entered a short circular cavern that dove down into the earth. On the other side was a thin layer of snow that quickly melted into spring green grass and beyond that was the bridge that breached the gorge. Auron had traveled this route so long ago, three days? He could not remember the journey, only the rage that had consumed his vision. Rage at her betrayal, rage at their deaths...

He shuddered and banished the thought from his mind.

Even with Kimahri's help the short trek down the mountain and to the border of the Calm Lands was painful, as if every indentation left by his boots in the soft ground was filled with his life's blood. Clinging to his dignity, he resisted the urge to lean more heavily on the Ronso's arm as they crossed the bridge and came in sight of the vast plains. Smoke still billowed from the distant edge, where Braska's Final Aeon, no, _Jecht_ had fought and defeated Sin. He hoped they were at peace on the Farplane, waiting for him to join them. But not now, not yet...

Overlooking the Scar was a woman in all yellow, almost indistinguishable from the Chocobo she rowed. Several other rider-less mounts were tied to her reins, and occasionally bent to peck at some unseen morsels on the ground. Auron and Kimahri approached her, the sound or perhaps the smell of the feline warrior alerting the birds before they came within a hundred feet.

"Oh, hello," she said cheerfully but as they got closer she noticed the sorry state of the red-coated man being supported by an abnormally short Ronso. Something was very familiar about man but it was hard to tell why he triggered her memory for his half his face was enshrouded in bandages. "Umm, would you like to rent a Chocobo?" the Ronso said nothing, only nodded and handed over the fare, enough for a journey across the plains. She accepted the money without further comment and went about freeing one of the mounts.

"I thank you for your generosity. I hope that one day I will be able to repay it, but I fear that I will never have the chance," Auron said. Kimahri nodded and carefully eased Auron's weight off his shoulder. For a moment it seemed as if the Guardian would fall but he retained his balance, albeit shakily.

"We will meet again," Kimahri rumbled, then turned back they way he had come. Silent, as was his way.

"Not for a long time, warrior," Auron whispered, certain that they would see each other only on the Farplane. Then he turned to go his own way, mounting the offered Chocobo and guiding it towards the opposite end of the Calm Lands then collapsing, the last of his energy and will spent, against its downy neck.

* * *

Kimahri gazed down from the lower plateau of the Ronso settlement on Gagazet, hardly blinking even as icy wind pierced his golden eyes. Far away he could see the figure of the red coated warrior whom he had tended, growing smaller and smaller with every bound of his chocobo until Kimahri's keen eyes could not even make out a tiny black speck on the verdant plains. He watched for a moment longer then turned away, backs towards his den at the outskirts of the Ronso village. Thoughts whirled in his head like tiny flakes caught in snowstorm but his face was as impassive as ever, even to the other Ronso. At the last minute he changed course, following a path he could have walked blindfolded towards the Elder's cavern, the largest and most ornate of all them all that lay in roughly the center of the comings and goings. 

It was a custom that when the Elder was not needed to serve his office of Maester in Bevelle that he would hold audience and act as a judge for disputes that had sprung up amongst his people before they escalated into possibly dangerous duels. Oftentimes however his judgment was that the two fight it out, but under controlled circumstances that would prevent any from needing the service of a Summoner. A week ago Kimahri had stood before the Elder alongside Biran and listened to the location that their duel was to be held in, along with the rules of the proceeding. Only week yet it seemed an eternity to the young Ronso for so much had changed in that short time.

* * *

"_Will little Kimahri yield?" Biran had taunted as he stood over the bruised and bleeding Ronso. The yellow haired warrior towered above his opponent and when he did not answer dealt him a kick in the side to hasten it._

_Kimahri lay there for a moment, his breathing harsh and ragged in his own ears. He could see a tightening ring of familiar blue faces around him, concern visible on a few. It seemed very far away but he could also hear the raucous laughter of Biran's companions, certain that their leader would have another defeat to add to his already illustrious name, and what a defeat it was! Kimahri could not... would not allow it._

"_No," he grunted, pushing himself to his feet, slowing his movements to hide his stagger. His hand flickered out, instinctively searching for the smooth shaft of his hunting spear but met only air. One of the conditions of the match was bare handed combat, a style which naturally favored the larger, stronger Biran. With his spear at his side, Kimahri knew he could make easy work of the cocky older Ronso but when resorting to his fist the fight became, at best, equal. _

_A ripple past through the audience and Kimahri could see that Biran was surprised by this turn of events. But the surprise was quickly masked beneath a growl of challenge, "Kimahri not know when he has been beaten. Biran will show him," Biran launched himself at his stunted opponent but instead of grasping Kimahri around the waist and attempting to wrestle him to the ground he grabbed him by the throat with one hand and by the horn with the other. His muscles rippled under his navy blue fur and Kimahri was lifted to his toes. Yet he did not cry out. Not a sound escaped his lips and with a low snarl Biran brought him face-to-face, his hot breath rank in Kimahri's nostrils as he rumbled under his breath, "Yield or Biran will rend you asunder."_

_Kimahri's eyes were unfazed and a slight hitch in his breath was the only indication that Biran had him in his power, "No." _

_Throwing back his head, Biran roared to the crowd, "Hear this! The weakling Kimahri refuses to yield! Let his shame be seen by all!" there was a might crack that reverberated like a tree snapping under the weight of the thick winter ice in the silence of the mountain. Kimahri roared in pain and disbelief, the only sound he had made the entire fight. Biran brandished the broken horn then cast it over the side of the mountain, where could be seen spinning end over end, glimmering in the sun like an icicle before plunging over the side of the cliff. _

_A hiss of disbelief was raised amongst some of the spectators but it was drowned out by the cheers of Biran's lackeys. Biran through Kimahri carelessly to the ground and strode towards his companions, laughing uproariously and flexing his impressive muscles, yet their joy was dampened slightly. It had not been a clear win. Biran had only ended the duel in the lead but nonetheless the shame of losing one's horn was a Ronso warrior's greatest fear and no great shame could be inflicted short of banishment. For now, Kimahri had been beaten by Biran would have to do better to reap the full glory of a victory. _

_For a long while Kimahri sat there, his cat-like eyes wide and empty, with one hand on the ground for support while the other was braced against his forehead. His breathing was heavy, a moment ago it had been the steady controlled breaths of a warrior now it was the deep ragged pant of one who saw the long road of Purgatory stretching before them and had to be silent to keep from moaning their dismay. He hardly heard the quiet fall of padded feet as the spectators left, their eyes downcast until only the Elder remained. Yet Kimahri did no acknowledge his presence until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Kimahri's knows what he must do to regain his honor?" came the solemn inquiry,_

"_Kimahri knows."_

"_The road will be hard for your shame is great. If you falter there is no hope."_

_Kimahri remained silent after this and soon after the Elder left as well, his light steps leaving only slight indentations in the snow that were quickly washed away by the wind. _

_Kimahri did not move though the sun set and the moon rose. Only as the rose light of dawn stretched out over the eastern side of the sacred mountain did the emptiness leave his slit-pupil eyes and he rose to his feet to greet the hard path that lay ahead._

* * *

He came to the entrance of the cavern just as a weapon-smith left, clasping a piece of parchment that contained the Elder's edict. Kimahri did not hesitate to enter and would not have even if the Elder had been holding an audience. This was old habit and had he not been lost in thought he would have perhaps reconsidered his actions in the light of his new status. 

"Kimahri wishes to speak with the Elder?" an attendant asked him, a slight curve of contempt in her feline smile. Kimahri nodded and she pointed beyond the hide doorway into the main hall. Elder Kelk sat upon an ornate throne depicting scenes of the hunt and filled with the symbolism of leadership in the power the hunter had over his quarry and the mercy he could show unless such mercy should weaken or endanger his family. The Elder raised his head and nodded towards Kimahri yet the younger Ronso could see a trace of surprise in the face he knew so well.

Stopping a few feet from the dais Kimahri made the sign of prayer and bowed to Elder Kelk. "Why are you here, Kimahri?" Kelk asked. For a moment Kimahri stared down at the floor as he chose his words, "Kimahri wishes to leave sacred Mt. Gagazet. He wished to tell Elder before he goes." 

"Why do you ask this?" Kelk exclaimed, visibly recoiling as if struck, "Do you not know the consequences of leaving the mountain before the time of shame is over? Only on Gagazet can you redeem yourself in the eyes of the mountain. Leave and you face disgrace and disownment. Will you not reconsider?"

Kimahri remained still and solid as a pillar but his eyes were fixed on the distance as if to look past Kelk and into his uncertain future, "Kimahri will not."

A pained expression crossed Kelk's face and he closed his eyes for a moment to hide the turmoil within. He opened them again and spoke in the slow deliberate voice of a Maester passing judgment, "So be it."

Kimahri turned to leave yet before he took a step he grimaced and turned desperately back towards the Elder, still and dignified as a statue upon his throne. "Father, Kimahri--."

"Why do you address me so, fallen Ronso?" Kelk rumbled but his face was also distorted in pain as he fell victim to the strict laws of their race, "You have no family and I... I have no son. Regain your honor and one day you may return to assume your place amongst the warriors and..." he unconsciously lowered his voice as if to keep his words from Yevon's ears, "after I am gone, to take your place as Elder of our race."

Kimahri's eyes widened at the breach in decorum but before he could say anything Elder Kelk waved a hand in dismissal. As he left, Kimahri made a silent vow not to return until he was strong enough to take his place once more amongst the warriors and worthy enough to once more be his father's son.

He left the way he had come, stopping only briefly at his den for a few days rations. He wondered how far the red-coated man had gone and if he would be able to catch up with him in time.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's part 1. It seems that unexpected family ties is quite a theme in Birth of Pain, huh? 

As always, in-depth information on future updates can be found on my homepage (the link is on my author page).

Please review!


	12. Blood, Sweat, and Tears part 2

The Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: see prologue.

A/N: Yes, I am still alive. And I would like to state for the purpose of clarification that Auron is indeed still alive. This chapter was originally supposed to be a filler where I spent a little time elaborating on Auron's death. As you can see, things got a little out of hand. The chapter eventually became so long that I split it into two pieces.

I would also like to apologize to any grammar freaks out there. This chapter does change from 2nd person to 3rd person with little warning and I know some of you find that rather frustrating. However, it was the only way I could make the passage work, I believe.

And finally I'd like to thank Rhianna-Aurora for beta-ing for me bows thank you m'dear. And also Ikonopeiston for sticking with this even through the long wait and perhaps unintenionally extending that wait by raising my standards for myself. If you have the time, check out her story "After" in the FFX-2 section. _I_ enjoyed it immensely, even before she made reference to Birth of Pain!

Anyway, I like to keep my author notes somewhat short so for more information check out my website (the link can be found on my profile). Now, on to the next chapter!

* * *

_All alone, cold fields you wander  
Memories of it, cloud your sight  
Fills your dreams, disturbs your slumber  
Lost your way, a fallen knight_

Otherworld

* * *

Breathe in.

Don't feel anything except the air cutting down your throat, the taste of the blood in your mouth. It feels cut to ribbons, as if you tried to eat tiny shards of powdered glass. But it also tastes cold and dead like there's a film of decay in your mouth. Everything tastes wrong, even your spit.

Don't think: about how close you are and about how you can feel those damnable tears welling up and stinging the pulpy ruin of your eye like fire. Don't think about them, about how their breath was stolen like a candle being blown out. Don't think about how he fell, how there were no marks on his body, how you couldn't do anything and _nothing could save him_.

And now _nothing_ can save you.

Don't listen to the crackling and chiming of the ice on the trees; don't try to listen for the voices of the elements. Only she could hear them, but can she now? You can't help but wonder how far away it is, the spring, your safe haven, her tomb. Don't listen to the memory, don't listen to yourself sobbing like a child, don't listen to the drip of your tears into the star water. Don't listen to the far off drone (what is it?), because it is not help.

Don't look, because there is nothing to see. There is no one to see. Just fiends that won't touch you and trees that won't speak to you. Don't look because all you'll see is Yuna's eyes asking why you failed her. Don't watch them bleed crimson and ask you why abandoned her. Why, why is her mother dead? Don't answer, you already know. Because you were not there in time.

Don't speak; don't scream because only the dirt will hear you. The dirt and frozen rocks that pierce your cheeks because why are you on the ground? Don't scream because then you'll _know_ you're alone and now may dream that you're not. Don't guess, guessing is thinking and you don't want to think: about how close you are…

Auron's body shuddered and another orb of heart's-blood fell to the ground, sending ripples through the growing pool like the age-rings of a tree.

* * *

"Tell me again, my friend, why you seek to cross the Calm Lands with such haste?" Rin shouted into the wind that tore past the speeding hover. The young Al Bhed had already tried several different angles in his attempt to draw the mysterious Ronso out of his shell but to no avail. Not a word had been spoken since Rin had seen the Ronso loping alongside the hover like a shadow and had stopped to offer him a lift.

"Kimahri is searching for someone," was his answer, not much more eloquent than the first time he had spoken and still with rustic habit of slipping into Ronso grammar. Yet the situation itself was so out of the ordinary that Rin felt strangely troubled by the Ronso's presence. His greeting, for example "Kimahri is in haste. Kimahri has gil," most Ronso disdained to use _any _machina, even those sanctioned by Yevon. _Rin_ knew that the hover was acceptable to the Yevonites but how could a young Ronso from the boonies of Mt. Gagazet know?

Rin pondered this as he piloted the hover around the hill that lead towards Macalania woods, the fans grinding up the air and spitting it out as it spun in place to take the turn. At the end of the range he could see one of his shopkeepers, Barrto, in conversation with Svela, the chocobo girl. She grasped a spare chocobo by the reins and as Rin drew nearer he could see that she was shaking her head in the universal sign of confusion. Barrto gestured towards the wood and offered his own shrug then turned to wave at the approaching hover.

Kimahri did not even wait for the machina to come to a full stop before bunching up like cat and springing from the deck, to land without even a stagger several yards away Rin watched him disappear down the slope before turning his attention back to stopping the hover alongside Svela and Barrto.

"Greetings, Rin," Barrto said in Common, mindful of the Yevonite in their midst. Svela was an old friend and it was generally considered impolite to hold a conversation in Al Bhed before (friendly) non-speakers. "Svela and I have encountered a bit of a mystery. One of the chocobos was found rider-less near the woods and for some reason it did not return to Svela. We can only assume therefore that it was not dismissed. Even stranger," Barrto carefully lifted one of the Chocobos' canary-yellow wings to reveal dark streaks on its back, "Blood, not chocobo blood, was all over its back when we found it. We tried to get in contact with Svela's sister, Sandra to ask her if she had rented out any of the chocobos but she's somewhere out on the plains taming the wild ones and we can't find her," Rin's face remained grave but his mind was already whirling over the possibilities. His greatest weakness was a good mystery and this one had the added benefit of being someone else's problem.

He was about to respond that they would need more information before they could launch a full investigation when out of the blue he remembered the taciturn Ronso and his haste to head, where else? Across the plains. "Barrto, you have done a very good job, I think. Take the hover back to the Travel Agency and I will try to help Miss Svela here before I continue on to Bevelle for the celebration," the shopkeeper nodded, not in the least disgruntled that he would be missing a night of the greatest party Spira would see for a century. The celebration of the Calm went on for weeks and would probably not see a slackening in the festivities for at least a month or two. Even Al Bhed were invited as peoples of Spira, which was why Rin was traveling to Bevelle now and then from there to each travel agency back to Luca, where the real fun was.

"Well?" Svela asked.

"I have an idea of what has happened. I will go right now to investigate. In the meantime, why don't you see to the grooming of this poor chocobo?" Rin suggested. After exchanging farewells with the chocobo girl he followed the path the Ronso had taken into Macalania Woods.

It never failed to astonish Rin how diverse Spira's terrain was. Hardly more than 100 yards from the cliff wall that surrounded the temperate Calm Lands lay a forest of ice, and beyond that another vast plain where the sun had not shown since before human recollection. Were it not so cold and were he not a city-man by nature, Rin would felt that Macalania would be considered the most beautiful place in the world to live.

The crunch of gravel shifted to the soft step of frozen turf and Rin's eyes strayed to the forest path en-route to regarding the multihued sapphire trees. A few dark droplets were splattered across the ground like molasses that had been scraped by someone trying to remove a stain. But none of the trees here had dark sap. Rin's pace quickened before his mind could catch up with what he had instinctively recognized.

Blood, and unless he was mistaken its owner was the very same as whoever left the chocobo unfettered. Even as he moved his brain calculated with the speed of merchant prince. The bloodstains became more frequent, the smears longer. Cloth, a body being dragged, but the marks were too long unless the weight was too great for the dragger. Someone crawling on their belly? Possible. Certain. Claw marks of a Ronso's toes chipping the ice. Another conclusion, this was who the Ronso sought. A scrap of bandage, brown with old blood. Another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. The man's wounds had been tended, perhaps by the Ronso and yet he continued. Another answer, another question.

Rin rounded the corner and suddenly everything fell into place.

Kimahri knelt over the body of a crimson-cloaked form on the ground. The man's face was shrouded in dirty, blood-soaked bandages and by Kimahri's pose, bent down to pick up quiet words that even his exceptional Ronso hearing could not pick up, the man spoke softly. The words were probably his last.

* * *

"Take Yuna to Besaid," Auron whispered fervently. Whether this blue colossus was real or an illusion created by the last spark of his dying brain he did not know. But he did know that no matter what he must pass on his message before he crossed over.

The last wish of a man facing death.

"Where is Yuna now?" the figure rumbled and the sound temporarily lifted the darkness that enshrouded the Guardian. Not an illusion, but a Ronso…Kimahri.

"St. Bevelle. Look for the daughter of Braska," he gripped the Ronso's proffered paw feebly, having not the strength to verbally impress Kimahri with the importance of the message. He felt himself slipping dangerously in and out of consciousness. Only a few moments left…

"Kimahri will find Yuna, daughter of Braska. Kimahri will bring her to Besaid," Auron sighed as a great weight was lifted from his shoulders. The lethargy of sleep too long denied fell over him and he finally allowed himself to slip into the velvety blackness.

As he fell he thought he heard another voice, so familiar it teased at his memory:

"Allow me to tend him…night, he will be well…"

And then Auron knew no more.

* * *

Night fell upon Bevelle.

On any other night the hubbub of the city would soon fade and traffic would all but cease. Only those doing their duty Yevon would be seen passing through the labyrinthine streets, the tiny ball of a light spell bobbing along beside them. In the windows one would see the silhouette of mothers putting their children to bed, whispering to them a warning against fiends who came to take away children who only pretended to fall asleep.

On any other night, at midnight, one would see a string of tiny flickering torches like glowing caterpillars making their way up the long stairway for midnight mass. They would come from all parts of the city and join together into a pool outside the temple before disappearing within. An hour later they would then return to their homes and sleep the rest of the night away.

Any other night this would have been so. But tonight was the fifth day of High Summoner Braska's Calm. Tonight, the cities of the people of Spira would echo the grandeur of their forefathers. Lights, both magical and mundane illuminated the central city as if it was broad daylight. Everywhere one could hear the sound of laughter and merriment tinged in some places with the high squeak of hysteria. Nearly a century had passed since the last Calm and none who had lived without fear of Sin still did. The reality of it simply could not penetrate their awareness.

Somewhere out in the darkness a little girl with mismatched eyes cried for the loss of her father in the arms of the one who would soon spirit her away.

Somewhere in the world another girl laughed, unaware that she was soon to lose her own father.

And somewhere on the outskirts of Bevelle, Rin strode out of one of the small bedrooms in the "not-quite" Bevelle Travel Agency. Yevon had denied Rin the right to officially establish one of his inns and so he had been forced to keep his Al Bhed way station a secret. Just as well, he supposed; Bevelle was not the place to antagonize with a constant reminder of his people's existence. Closing the door quietly behind him he narrowly avoided running into his Bevelle branch manager and the dying Guardian's impromptu nurse, Calindda.

"_Byntuh sa, _Rin_. E fyc zicd kuehk du ytsehecdan _Sir Auron _ec budeuh_, (Pardon me, Rin, I was just going to administer Sir Auron his potion,)" Calindda said, shouldering her basket of medicines to push her thick blonde braid back over her shoulder.

Rin leaned limply against the doorframe with one hand and stared down at the carpet as if the pale blue fabric was some unfathomable sea, "_Drao femm hud ramb res_, (They will not help him,)" Rin sighed and raised his eyes to meet Calindda's. "_Fa pudr ghuf drec_. (We both know this.)"

Calindda returned his gaze full force, her eyes lit with the fires of determination and, somehow, hope. "_Ra rambat cyja ic vnus_ Sin. _Drec ec dra maycd fa lyh tu_, (He helped save us from Sin. This is the least we can do.)"

"_Ed ec _ymm_ fa lyh tu_, (It is _all_ we can do,)" Rin replied, straightening. Calindda sidestepped to let him pass. He walked a little ways down the hall but before he reached the end he stopped but did not turn back, "_Ra femm pa tayt po sunhehk_. (He will be dead by morning.)"

* * *

Auron awoke to an indescribable feeling of detachment, almost as if he was floating in a sea of warmth and comfort. The sensation was strange and foreign until he realized what he really felt was the absence of pain.

"Hey."

Auron's eye flew open and his heart leapt into his throat. At first he could not make out the figure that sat at the foot of his bed for it seemed to be constructed solely of different hues of light. But the form was human, the shape female. Once his vision swam into focus his eyes confirmed what his heart had only dared suspect.

"I would ask how you've been but I think I already know the answer," the woman said wryly, her multitude of tiny braids rustling as she cocked her head to the side.

"Leyla?" Auron whispered. It was all he could say. He knew he should be on his feet, pulling her off the bed and into his embrace. He knew he should be kissing her and between each breath begging her forgiveness but in the end just holding her as he had been able to only in dreams since that terrible day.

But he couldn't move. He could hardly speak. All he could do was stare at her as she smiled, the way only she did, knowing it really was her. No one could counterfeit that grin.

"Yeah, it's me," she scooted closer till she was sitting parallel to him. For the first time he noticed the room around him. It was reminiscent of one of the travel agencies in its Spartan elegance but for the life of him Auron couldn't imagine how he had come here. "We're in Bevelle. Rin and his Al Bhed are tending you," she paused and gestured behind him, an unreadable expression shadowing her face.

Auron followed her gaze and saw behind him a wretched figure swathed in bandages, almost impossible to identify as the once proud Guardian of Summoner Braska. The visible half of his face was bathed in sweat while the other was swathed in fresh bandages that were already darkening as they soaked in blood and pus of the freshly opened gash that stretched to his upper torso. It was obvious that he was wracked with fever as he alternately panted from heat and helplessly pulled at the tightly wound blankets to ward off the phantom chill.

Auron tore his gaze away from his ruined self and stared down at his hands, noting with shock that he could see through them to the coverlet that he sat on. He was fully clothed as if prepared for another day on the road to Zanarkand. Raising one hand slowly to the right side of his face he found the only difference. Thick scar tissue stretched down over his eye, barring it shut. "What is going on?" he said, as much to Leyla as himself.

"You are dying," Leyla said solemnly. "There is little chance you will survive the night."

Auron took in these words, looking back at his physical self. An Al Bhed woman with a blonde braid down to her waist was standing beside him, spooning what looked like a potion into his mouth. Yet no change came over the body, no miraculous jumpstart of the healing process lifted the veil of pain from his features. She seemed to note this sadly and, replacing the sealed vial back into her basket, quietly left the room.

"I understand," Auron said.

"Then shall we go?" Leyla smiled offering one of her delicate white hands. Auron reached to take it but suddenly stopped, staring at his hand as if it had betrayed him.

"I cannot," he said, withdrawing it. "There is still much I must do here. I promised Jecht that I would watch over his son and…Paine…" the skin around his eyes tightened and he turned from the apparition of his wife.

Leyla stared for a moment into the distance before answering. But not with the harsh words Auron had expected. "You did what you could," she said sadly. "I wish that things had been different. I wish that our daughter had known her real parents but…Things do not always turn out the way we wish they would. She is content. and in the end I suppose that is enough."

"I have failed so many people," Auron murmured. "You, Braska, Jecht, Yuna, Jecht's son…and Paine," He looked back to his own broken body, which was beginning to grow still. Each panting gasp was weaker than the last and his iron grip on the sweat-stained sheets to ward off the pain was loosening. It was only a matter of time.

"You did all that you could and no one could ask any more. Braska made his own decision and he cannot thank you enough for what you did for Yuna. And who is to say I could have done any better for our daughter had our roles been reversed?" once again she reached for his hand.

"How can you forgive me, when I can't even forgive myself?" Auron whispered.

"Because I love you," she replied simply, "And you have suffered enough. Please, Auron, six years I have waited. Let's go home."

"Home," he savored the word for a moment. The regret did not leave his features but the shadow of his pain fled. Auron reached out and took her hand in his. "I am ready."

Leyla smiled, "Alright."

Auron turned to see him self inhale one last choking breath then go still. For a moment he felt the overwhelming urge to fling himself out of Leyla's grasp and back into his mangled corpse. It wasn't fair! He had done all he could and his reward was _death_! He just wanted to live, to-

"Just let go," she whispered into his ear.

And suddenly all the pain was gently swept away. He was free.

The room began to fade from sight to be replaced by a thick cotton-like fog. One moment Leyla was by his side and the next she was running ahead through the fading walls and into the mist. In an instant he was running after her, noting with wonder that between the breaks in the dispersing clouds he could see fleeting glimpses of a familiar sight. The end of suffering for all Spirans: the Farplane.

Another gap revealed a small group of half-formed shapes. He nearly laughed aloud when they resolved themselves into the images of Braska, in full Summoners robes with his wife Rikku in his arms. The realization rushed over him: he had truly come home. This was the end of the road, the end of suffering for himself as well as Leyla, Braska, Rikku, and Jecht…

He stopped within ten feet of his Lord, but Leyla ran on, her joyful expression changing to one of surprise when she finally turned and saw he was no longer following her.

"Hello, Auron," Braska said sadly, "It is good to see you, but it grieves me that our reunion should be so soon."

Auron hardly heard him. "Where is Jecht?" Auron said and the silence that greeted his question was deafening. Braska, Rikku, and Leyla all exchanged glances.

Braska disentangled himself from his wife and took a step forward. Glancing around at the others for a moment he met Auron's gaze and said somberly, "Jecht is not here."

"Not here?" Auron said, furrowing his brow, "Is he still alive?"

"Only in a manner of speaking. His body died the day he became the Fayth of my Final Aeon. Yet even as we speak he continues his battle against Sin."

Auron went cold. "But I saw him destroy Sin! After you…died, Jecht destroyed Sin and disappeared!"

"Jecht only had time to destroy the outer shell as well as the remnants of the previous Final Aeon," Braska explained, pressing on before Auron could question him further. _The previous Final Aeon_? "The teachings are a lie, Auron. You barely scratched the surface when you learned that my Calm would not be eternal. Yu Yevon, the very Yevon we have blindly followed for the past millennia, is the creator and the controller of Sin. Only a Final Aeon has the strength to destroy his armor, what we know as Sin, and only a Final Aeon has the strength to become the next."

"You are saying-," Auron said, his voice a whisper of horror.

"Yes. Jecht is Sin. Or soon will become it. Yu Yevon severed our connection, killing me," Rikku winced visibly, "and took control of him. It is only a matter of time before Jecht's battle ends and he is lost."

"Is lost- But _how_, my lord? What do you mean only a matter of time?!" Auron said. It was impossible, unthinkable! Jecht was supposed to be here! If what Braska said was true, even now Auron's friend was trapped, denied the peace of death.

"If Jecht stops fighting, the Calm will end and Sin will return."

"Then why can't Jecht stop fighting now? He has no investment in this world! Let…let another Summoner bring the Calm," he could hardly believe the treachery of his own words. He thought of Yuna, of Paine and how they should grow up in a world free of Sin. But most of all he thought of Jecht, trapped inside Spira's Suffering, fighting to survive.

"Jecht cannot give up. The moment he does, Yu Yevon will begin the battle on his mind, breaking his will until there is nothing left of him except his Aeon form. With that power, Sin will once again return," Braska said.

"And the cycle will continue," Auron breathed. It was all too much. Pivoting on his heels he glared back the way he had come, the knuckles of his clenched fists going white. "Just like Yunalesca said: in the end we changed nothing."

"This time might be different, Auron," Braska began but Auron spun around, his eyes flashing with suppressed rage.

"No it won't, Braska! With no atonement, Spira has lost all hope of ridding itself of Sin! One day Jecht will tire and the Calm will end. More Summoners and their Guardians will be sacrificed until one day Sin destroys us _all_. The cycle will not end until all of us are dead!" Auron snarled.

"Auron, calm yourself!" Braska barked and then more gently. "There is still hope."

"Where, Braska? What hope is there for Spira except for Yunalesca's?" Auron said bitterly.

"Jecht had a plan," Auron looked up at this, his curiosity plain on his face, "His son is the key."

"The boy is eight years old, what good can he do us now?" Auron said bitterly.

"Not now. But ten years from now, _eight_ years from now the boy will be of some use. Jecht _can_ wait that long," Braska said.

Auron snorted derisively, "He will still be a child."

"You were only eighteen when you married Leyla, by all rights a man. But you are right, the boy must be lead in the right direction before he will be of any use to Jecht," Braska said and suddenly what he had been hinting at the whole time became clear to Auron. And to Leyla.

"Braska, no!" Leyla cried, and suddenly she was between them, arms spread wide as if to physically shield her husband. "Auron has done enough! Let the living deal with Sin, it is their world now!"

"He is the only one who can, Leyla!" Braska retorted. "He is the only one amongst us who has not been Sent," he looked past her and gazed solemnly into Auron's eyes, "And only the dead can enter the Dream of the Fayth."

"Jecht's Zanarkand," Auron murmured. So that is what the Fayth had meant when they told Braska about his Guardian's home. "Leyla, I have to go."

"What?" Leyla voice cracked as she turned back to him. Her face was white as marble.

"I have to go back. I owe it to Jecht, to Spira…to Paine," as he said this he looked at Braska, who nodded, "If there is a possibility that I can help break the cycle, then I must try."

"But you need not go right away! Please, can we not be together for at least a little while?" Leyla pleaded, her eyes were luminescent with the threat of tears.

"If he chooses this path then he will be among the living dead. He will no longer belong here. At least, not until he is here to stay," Braska said as pronouncing judgment, yet there was no joy in his voice.

Auron nodded and turned back the way he had come, back to the land of the living. He only had time to take a couple steps, each one bringing with it a breath of solidity that pulled him down like a weight. When suddenlya broken sob sounded behind him and Auron turned just in time to see Leyla hurtle at him, catching and clinging to him as if to forcibly keep him from taking another step.

"Don't make this any harder than it is, my love," Auron whispered harshly. Already it seemed nearly impossible to continue. The rode that stretched before him seemed impossibly long and bleak. Years of living a lie as a ghost of his former self. Years in which each moment would bring the knowledge that Jecht continued to suffer. Years away from the joy he had been allowed to taste here so briefly.

"You cannot leave without letting me say goodbye," Leyla replied, laying her head against his chest, her voice equally harsh with suppressed emotion. "That was one of my greatest regrets, that I was not able to say goodbye."

"Leyla, I-," any protests he would have made, any promises he might have spoken were suddenly caught off as her lips fastened on to his. For a moment he resisted but not for long. He was drowned himself in the feeling of her, the touch and taste of her. Heheld her as hehad promised himself a thousand times he would, as if he would never let go.

An eye-blink, an eternity later he realized that she was fading, her perfume scattering upon the breeze that blew her and the Farplane from his grasp. He dared not open his eyes to watch his dream fade. Better to remember her in his arms than bidding farewell...

...And once again he was standing beside his death bed.

He would have to hurry, in order to prepare for the long wait.

* * *

The next day Rin found the bed where his patient had lain empty of all but the bandages that had swathed him. Gone also was one of the unmodified katanas from the shop with double the payment of gil beside it. No one had seen the man leave and none could fathom how he had the strength to leave with the wounds he had suffered. Yet Rin had a feeling it was not the last they had seen of him.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter should be up in record time after it has been edited. As always, please review! 


	13. Pain of Recognition

Birth of Pain

Disclaimer: see prologue.

A/N: Ok, so I lied. But the chapter's here now so please enjoy and review! Also, don't be afraid to contact me via AIM, my SN is Athena799 for more info on my fics.

* * *

"Hey, Rin," the sound of Cid's gruff voice broke Rin from his reverie. Though profitable as the only merchant on board, his stay on the airship had been dull once the initial thrill of traveling through the air had worn off, leaving only traces of motion-sickness in its wake, "We've got a call from of those Travel Agencies of yours. The Highroad one" 

Rin turned away from the window and strode up the oscillo-finder in the center of the bridge. Al Bhed code flickered across the sphere, mostly reports on the ships status. "What could it be, I wonder?" Rin pondered aloud, clasping his hands behind his back. Suddenly the words on the screen vanished and were replaced by to the face of Highroad branch manager, Jenni.

"Rin, _yna oui drana_? (Rin, are you there?)" Jenni called, her inquisitive face flickering with static.

"_Kuut tyo_, Jenni (Good day, Jenni). What is it that is so important you had to call me?"

"Thank goodness we finally found you!"she exclaimed, her eyes focusing on the center of the screen. "We've recently had a terrible occurrence at the Agency: three people, two boys and a girl, where shot with a machina just outside. One of them we've identified as Gippal, who ran off to join the Crusaders last year. The others are Yevonites and no one has come looking for them. The shooting happened earlier this week and we are currently tending the victim's wounds. We are hoping that when they wake up they can tell us more," Jenni said earnestly.

"This is extremely serious," Rin said grimly, clasping his hands behind his back, "Can you show them to me?"

"Of course." The image shook and was half covered by Jenni's fingers as she moved the sphere into one of the rooms. Rin recognized the young Al Bhed immediately but could only identify the white haired, caramel skinned by the Yevonite symbols on his clothes. In the corner of the room lay a girl no older, he approximated, than the Summoner Yuna. He could not tell what she was wearing beneath the sheets but her slim neck was decorated by a black studded choker and a long silver necklace with a chain of barbed wire. Her hair was a unique shade of steel-gray, as if all the color had been washed out of her. Rin's eyes narrowed. He had seen hair that color on only one person, a woman who had died many years ago. Sixteen, if he remembered correctly. He had no known her well, but he had become well acquainted with her husband as he journeyed with High Summoner Braska.

"Unless I am mistaken, Jenni, that girl has a very unusual eye color. A deep crimson, like blood, no?"

Jenni cocked an eyebrow in curiosity but she had long since become used to the vast amount of knowledge that her employer possessed. "Yes, actually. Do you know her?"

"I may. Can you arrange for her to be transferred to the airship's infirmary?"

Jenni's lips pursed "I'm sorry, Rin, but her condition is critical. The bullet went clean through her shoulder. The ligaments were torn and the bone nearly shattered. There's no risk of infection, but she could take a turn for the worst at any moment. I'm afraid I can't in good consciences have her sent by sphere transporter."

"That will not be a problem, Jenni, Cid has assured me that a visit to the Highroad on our way to Zanarkand will be no trouble. Also, the very best _tulduns _Home has to offer are on board. She will be in good hands," Rin said, blithely ignoring the aghast expression on Cid's face at this information.

"Now wait just a damn minute-," Cid began.

"Very well, it is settled," Rin said maneuvering his body to block Jenni's view of the apoplectic captain, "As soon as we land we'll bring her to the on-board infirmary. I assure you, Jenni, she will have the best care." Rin said.

"We can't be goin' all the way to _Mi'hen_! We gotta get to Zanarkand before Yuna-,"

"By the way," Rin said just before Jenni turned off the sphere-cam, "Have you discovered her name?"

"We watched her spheres to see if we could get any information on them. We'll send them with her. We found out her name is Paine, from Kilika Port. Be wary Rin, something called the Crimson Squad has made her an enemy of Yevon. We don't need any more reasons to have them breathing down our necks," Rin nodded to himself.

"Thank you, Jenni, I will remember that. We should be there by the end of the day," the oscillo-finder flickered and was once again filled with data-stream. Rin's eyes flickered along the logs for a moment yet finding he could not understand half of the terms turned to begin preparations for Paine's arrival when something tapped him very lightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, Rin?" Cid said with frightening cheerfulness.

* * *

"Sir Auron, might I have a word?" the Al Bhed merchant called as Auron entered the hatch. The other guardians glanced over at the exchange but did not seem surprised. They all looked exhausted and beaten. Within moments, Al Bhed _tulduns _were hustling them off to prepared quarters.

"Alright," Auron replied, seeming to be the least weary of the seven. He gave Rin an expectant look.

"No, not here. There is something I need to show you. Down in the infirmary," Auron did not show his puzzlement but followed the Al Bhed, wondering what the other man could possibly have to show him. A young woman with blonde hair tied back in a long thick braid pressed a button that released the door to let them by.

"_Nekrd drec fyo_ (Right this way), Mr. Rin."

Rin nodded his thanks as the hatch flew open with a swish and a clank, revealing a room buzzing with machina. Their steel surfaces flickered with red and green lights and a small screen sketched two peaks, one short and one tall, each second. A deep, even wheeze rang abnormally loud in a room so quiet Auron could hear the nearly inaudible clicks of the machina. For some reason the silence reminded him of a temple, as if a certain level of respectful quiet was required.

And within its sanctum, the Fayth.

Lying prone on a small cot , so delicate she left hardly any swell in the tightly tucked sheets, lay a girl as white and shining as alabaster under the garish, unfeeling lights. It was as if all the color had been drained out of her, even her hair was limp and gray.

A soft grunt escaped Auron's lips, as if his recognition of the girl had manifested itself as a punch to the heart. He knew her. Not by her hair which fell dark and lank as tarnished silver around her face, or by her eyes for they were closed. It was by her face, the way she slept, the way her nose was his own, but smaller, more feminine and her cheekbones shaped her face so like her mother's that had he lived he would have cried out. Around her neck was the necklace he had given her ten years ago, but now the silver chain that had once pooled in his hand like water was twisted and intertwined with barbed wire like thorns around the flower pendant.

"She is your daughter, is she not? I had heard that your wife, the Lady Leyla was nine months pregnant when she died sixteen years ago," Rin said softly but Auron could not rip his gaze away from her, nor find the words to speak. Though meeting her ten years before dulled some of the shock, seeing her now only a year younger than when he had met her mother shook him to the core. "We found her outside the Mi'hen Highroad Branch, badly injured after being shot with a machina by one of her comrades; most likely for her role as a recorder in the Crimson Squad."

"Kinoc's project," Auron murmured.

"He ordered their deaths," Rin said simply. "I have done some research since she arrived."

Auron went, if possible, even more still. The man he had once considered his best friend had ordered the death of his and Leyla's child. The last vestiges of his beloved on this world had almost been destroyed without a thought, and by someone he had once trusted with his life.

For a moment he brooded on this, but thoughts of the pilgrimage, never far from his mind, flooded back along with his sense of duty.

"You know there is nothing I can do, Rin," he said gruffly, "She has… never known me, it would be futile to introduce us now. You know that I must go soon."

"Then you will do nothing?" Rin asked pointedly.

"She was raised by her aunt and uncle, I saw to that. Doubtless they will take care of her better than I could," Auron said despite the hidden desire, buried deep since the last time he had seen her childish face, to be her father. But that was why he had given her up; he had too many promises to keep, no way of giving her the life she deserved. It was better this way.

"Her parents…they are dead," Rin said slowly.

Auron looked away from the Al Bhed back to his sleeping daughter. Yes, dead. A pained smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Dead for ten years.

"Sir Auron? Sin attacked Kilika a few months ago. You knew that, did you not? The girl's aunt and uncle were killed in the attack."

Shock that would have quickened his heartbeat long ago coursed through his veins like an electric jolt. No emotion showed on his stony face hidden behind his glasses and high collar but his fist tightened reflexively, fingertips scraping the side of her bed.

Sorrow darkened Rin's face. He could see that the news had shocked his friend and briefly wondered where the guardian could have been not to have heard of the destruction of Kilika Port. But something else bubbled beneath his pity for a man who had just had his illusions shattered. Anger. Red-hot and seeking to escape like lava from cracked and blackened ground. Yet Rin was a master at quelling his emotions, never allowing the mildly-interested mask to slip. In this he was as good, if not better than the crimson-cloaked man before him.

He knew that Sir Auron intended to die. He had seen the look many times; the look of someone who cares little for the small things around them, knowing that soon it will no longer be their problem. Rin had also deduced long ago that Auron was an Unsent but even the knowledge that the man sought rest long denied did not cool the fury inside. The legendary guardian Auron intended to die for a higher purpose, to pass on once he had helped rid Spira of Sin and go to the Farplane where he should have lain long ago; to rejoin his wife and fallen comrades.

And in the process would leave behind the daughter he had never taken responsibility for.

That was the source of Rin's fury. The man's daughter lay dying with a bullet in her chest, put there by a friend's betrayal, having lost her foster parents and never knowing her real ones. Yet Auron stood beside her, so close he would not have to move to touch her, to trace the lines of her face that were a mix of his own and the woman he had loved. A man who planned to give up, to die, for a promise he had made to dead men long ago. Forgetting the promise he had made to this child by being her father, the unspoken vow to protect her and love her as she grew into the woman she was meant to be.

"She has no one, my friend," Rin said, his assumed accent masking his true emotions.

"She will make it alone," Auron said, "It is in her blood," the subtle changing in his stance alerted Rin louder than spoken word that the man meant to leave, to return to the pilgrimage that had consumed his undead existence.

Rin would not have it.

"She is _dying_, Auron," Even now his volume did not change but the tiniest glints of his anger shone through. To those who knew Rin, that miniscule touch of emotion was the equivalent in others of screaming rage. Auron was one of those people.

"Even _if_ she survives her wounds, she is defenseless. She is not a mage or a warrior-monk like you or your wife. She is a sixteen year old girl and an enemy of Yevon for her role in the Crimson Squad. She has been betrayed by her faith, her friends," Rin paused, "And her family if you abandon her now."

Auron's shoulders slumped but he did not look at Rin. So many promises to keep and rest so near. Did Rin really expect him to stay? His time had passed long ago. The only thoughts keeping him from becoming a fiend were the destruction of Sin, saving Jecht, and keeping his promises. A great burden but a thin shield.

"What would you have me do, Rin?" Auron said his voice tight with weariness. "Be her father now, when she has already grown up? That man died, Rin, not ten years ago but sixteen, he died when Sin attacked Bevelle. In that I have not lied to her," The Al Bhed remained silent, unmoving. Auron turned to leave and felt Rin's hand close around his sleeve like a vice, wrenching him back. The normally calm Al Bhed's mouth was compressed into a thin line and Auron could see the tremors in the merchant's clenched fists.

"Our debt was not repaid when I took you in that night in Bevelle, Sir Auron. I still owe you my life and I will repay you by saving yours. If you leave now she will follow soon, to the Farplane. Save her, Auron, save yourself. Your death can wait a little longer."

Auron looked Rin dispassionately then turned his gaze to the silver haired girl asleep on the cot, every breath rattling in her throat as if it were her last. His eyes did not change. "That debt was canceled long ago," he raised a mollifying hand before Rin could protest. "When she has recovered, bring her to me. I will teach her what I know for as long as I have. But she'll never learn, Rin, that this fiend in the shape of her father has any connection to her."

"She is wise, she will guess," Rin protested.

"But she will never know," Auron said. This time, Rin did not try to stop the dead man as he strode passed.

* * *

_Tuldun_: Doctor 

As always, please review


	14. Pain of Remembrance

Pain of Remembrance

A/N: When an Al Bhed invokes Yevon's name it is a considered a swear word.

* * *

A hairsbreadth of gray glimmered against the darkness, broadened like a waxing moon then closed.

She slept on, allowing her tired mind and limbs to be sucked once more into an abyss of lethargy.

There was no knowing how long she drifted. Yet slowly like moisture returning to a parched land the first glimmers of awareness penetrated. The patter of feet and the unrecognizable rise and fall of voices drew her upward like a drowning man clawing towards the surface. She slowed at the edge of wakefulness, hesitating, and then pushed onward into the light that spun above her like a supernova. Her eyes widened slowly and the light steadied, transforming into a single Al Bhed chemical globe.

"So, you are awake," a calm, steady voice said, drawing her from where she had been floating in relaxed silence.

"Nooj?" she murmured sleepily, shifting to push herself upright. A blur of red stood out against the gray like a bloodstain on a cold blade. In her confusion she wondered where the others were and how she had ended up in the camp's infirmary. "What..?"

_Something's wrong!_

Bolting upright, Paine gasped as a wave of nausea tore through her gut and her vision spun into sickeningly in and out of focus. She clutched the sheets as dry-heaves wracked her body only to fall back again as a phantom pain seemed to tear her arm from its socket.

All of this was nothing against the sharp and sudden agony of remembrance.

* * *

It had all been a set-up. The Den of Woe, the Crimson Squad, all of it. She didn't understand how or why they would have bothered to train the lot of them first but as she ran, only a few steps behind Gippal with the sound of machina gunfire ringing in her ears, her anger at the betrayal was the only thing keeping her from collapsing under the weight of despair.

At the sound of Nooj's machina limbs faltering she spun in time to see him fire a spray of bullets at their pursuers, who only a few hours ago had been their officers. He made no move to start running again, even as the front line fell away. "Nooj!" Paine yelled dashing back to grab his machina arm. "We have to go!" He looked back at her, his brown eyes strangely dead. As if…

She opened her mouth but before a sound could come out she felt his arm jerked out of her grip. "She's right, Noojster, you can croak on your own time," Gippal, flanked by Baralai snatched the machina from his good arm and half pushed half dragged Nooj along with them.

At first Paine had hoped to leave Maester Kinoc and the other Warrior Monks in the dust but with Nooj slowing them down and Kinoc falling back to join the rest of the clergy only the most hardened warriors kept up the chase. As they reached the end of Mushroom Rock Road, gaining only a few precious seconds by reaching the geysers before the warrior monks, Baralai gasped between breaths, "We can't run much longer, we have to make a stand!"

"With what?" Paine barked back. Nooj had the only weapon amongst them and Yevon knew how many bullets were left.

As it would turn out, he had only three.

With making a stand out of the question, the lone survivors of the Crimson Squad were forced into hiding, finding only brief refuge in caves along the Djose Highroad. Paine hoped that the pursuit would lighten the longer they evaded capture and in some sense she was right. The Warrior Monks pursuing them disappeared but by the next day hover crafts were sweeping the Highroad, each manned by five Crusaders armed to the teeth.

Nooj was strangely quiet throughout their harrowing flight. Paine tried to chalk it up to the pain he must be feeling where flesh met machina but whenever she caught his eye she was disturbed by what she saw. They were dark and dead like twin windows into the Den of Woe.

* * *

"I think they're done for the night," Gippal whispered, his normal cheery nonchalance buried beneath the days of little sleep and less food. They were currently on the Old Road below Mi'hen after escaping though the entrance to the Djose Highroad before it could be blocked against their escape. Reaching over he shook Baralai out of his doze and Paine moved to help Nooj to his feet. "With luck they'll assume we're stuck behind the blockade. I say we try to make the Travel Agency by dawn."

Paine remembered a time when journey from the Mushroom Rock Base to the Mi'hen Travel Agency had taken only a days travel. If her calculations were right then the amount of time it had taken them to travel the same distance with their injuries, low supply levels and narrow windows of safe travel time was nearly a month.

As they prepared to set out again Paine heard a whispered voice she had almost forgotten the sound of, "Paine?"

She turned to the sound of Nooj's voice and her heart leapt. Even in the darkness of pre-dawn she caught of glint of long-absent light behind his spectacles. As she moved closer, he shook his head slightly as if rousing himself from sleep.

"Where are we?"

Paine's blood ran cold and for a moment she could only stare at him. As he looked at her she saw the confusion in his eyes, his composure held in check by an iron will. "What has happened?"

_Yevon, has he gone mad?_ She walked over and knelt tentatively beside him, her eyes seeking his face "What…" her voice shook slightly though whether with fear or exhaustion she could not say, "What is the last thing you remember?"

His brow furrowed and the coldness in her belly spread. "There was a light and something… a wave of absolute despair, the likes of which I have never felt before engulfed me. I saw… a huge machina and a man who controlled it," his eyes had glazed over as he looked back in memory. "There was a woman-," the last word was garbled as a sudden gasp of pain shuddered through his body. "What have I done?" he whispered. "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry, I-."

"Nooj, what's wrong?" Paine exclaimed seizing his shoulders.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said hoarsely. "But I had no choice, I had to…I'm so sorry."

_That's not Nooj_, Paine realized. Nowhere in that shivering, quaking shell was the strong leader she had known. Even his voice seemed different and as his eyes rose to meet hers she thought for a moment she saw a flash of blue in his dark eyes.

"What in the name of Yevon is all that racket!" came a loud whisper as Gippal dropped down from the shelf above them. He looked irritated and frightened, only a step away from the tantrums that had typified him when Paine met him as a new recruit. "Are you _trying_ to bring them down on us?" When no one answered he gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Come on, Rin said he'd take us in for a day as a favor to my dad. Nooj, you ok over there?"

"Yes," Paine spun to see Nooj on his feet, cane clutched in one hand with his machina gun strapped to his hip. There was no hint on his face that the breakdown of only a moment ago had ever happened. If anything, the dead look had returned to his eyes.

"You alright Paine?" Gippal asked.

"Yeah… I guess so," the questioning look she shot at Nooj went unanswered and the half-machina man set out on the trail before them.

"You know what's going to happen once we get there, right?" Gippal said falling into step beside her. Only silence met his question and he continued. "It's not safe for us to travel together anymore, they've got our descriptions and they know we're traveling as a group. Rin said he can arrange to get me back to Bikanel but Baralai said he's got other plans…" Gippal took a deep breath, "Whatever happens, we're gonna get split up. You're welcome to come with me but I figured…I figured you'd want to go with Nooj."

She started and a small ironic smile twitched at the corner of her lips. "Was I that obvious? Nevermind, don't answer that."

"I get the feeling I'm gonna miss you, Dr. P, whatever happens. Things aren't gonna be the same anymore. The thing is… I just wish I knew what it was I saw in there. That was one impressive machina…" the last sentence ended in a murmur such that Paine could not hear the last word. In the east the sky was stained a deep blood red as the sun glimmered over the horizon as the Travel Agency came into view.

* * *

"Why Nooj?" Paine whispered though it could not be told whether it was to the red-clad figure in the corner or to herself. "Why did you do it?" She sniffled and before hot tears blurred her vision. Forgetting the red-clad figure entirely she sank back against the bed post and cried until she had nothing left though the well of pain remained.

Auron watched the display in silence, not a flicker of emotion showing crossing his concealed features. When she finally wore herself to exhaustion, her meager store of energy spent, he bent to wipe the hot sweat and cooling tears from her face and pull the crisp sheet over her bandaged shoulder.

He left the light on, for he knew she would not want to wake in darkness.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, in the end very little editing took place. In retrospect I rather like this chapter, for all its brevity. I can't promise another chapter in the near future, what with my Fruits Basket fic taking up my time. But I would still like to finish this fic in the near future. Reviews are always appreciated. 


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